


Flesh and Bone

by Tos_ka



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angry Cullen, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Jealous Cullen, Love/Hate, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, Near Death Experiences, POV Alternating, POV Cullen Rutherford, POV Solas, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Solas Smut, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-13 17:34:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 84,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5711086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tos_ka/pseuds/Tos_ka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alysia Trevelyan wanted nothing more in life than to cut her ties with her family and be her own person. Through fate's twisted way in giving her a chance in starting anew, she accepts being the Herald of Andraste- that was until the demons from her past came knocking on her door trying to mar whatever she had finally built for herself.<br/>Will she ever learn to fight them, or will she continue running away from them? </p><p>[The story starts barely before the events at the Conclave and it mostly follows the DA:I story, with added dialogues and scenes]</p><p><b>Warning: This fic will get dark and smutty at some point. </b><br/>Chapter titles are named after songs I was listening to.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wide Awake

**Author's Note:**

> First attempt at a fic ever! Feedback would be greatly appreciated :3
> 
> Send me some love on [ Tumblr ](http://in-vogued.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♫ Wide Awake by Josh Record
> 
> Send the lovely [Katorius](http://thereisnomadnessanymore.tumblr.com/image/143618052519) some love for bringing my child Alysia to life.

Her fingers traced the outline of branches above her head, sunlight filtering through the leaves and resting on her creased brows. Her long silvery hair lay loosely upon the ground, contrasting her tanned skin, eyes burning blue like the cold mid-winter, she felt the low hums of winds on her skin knowing that the weather was going to drop, bringing about a cool change. She hummed to herself an unknowing song, and sighed. Just then a voice called out to her from a distant.

“Alysia.”

She didn’t respond, instead she turned her gaze to the tuft of grass before her and stared blankly at the way the long grass and patches of dandelion ruffled against the mild wind. The land she was lying on was large, acres of it was filled with flowers and farm animals- the estate she grew up in was beautiful but Alysia couldn't help wonder what it was like to not live here anymore. She loved her life, she could not complain about it but there was something inherently missing in it and for the longest time she could figure what it was. 

“Alysia, father is looking for you.”

“Why,” she asked uninterested.

“You know why!” She hissed back. “You left Duke Langsley's son outright embarrassed when you told him to stick his large fortune up his arse!”

Alysia got up from the comfort she was in and straightened her dress out. She shot her sister a exasperated look, “I’m sure he will get over it.”

Aurelia groaned inwardly, “Must you _always_ act like such a child?!”

"And must you _always_ do what father tells you to?" Alysia asked her sister mockingly.

"Oh! Don't you dare play the "favourite daughter card" with me."

Alysia lifted her arms in protest. “It’s not my fault that father prefers you over me. Not like I care."

But Alysia knew that she cared. She cared about many things in her life, most of which when it involved her inadequacy. Alysia was afraid of the judgement she was surrounded with, even as a child, this fear was deep rooted. It's not that her sister never had her fair share of it but she felt it more when people perceived her as pathetic or ill. Many a times she had overheard people in the estate whisper tales that involved her and her bad decisions. She was never an insecure child to begin with, but over time her insecurity moulded into her mind and everything around her made her feel empty. And unwanted. 

Aurelia looked at her sister and felt her temper flare; she groaned at her sister and roller her eyes.

Enjoying the exasperated look on her sister's face, Alysia grinned at her sister and locked her arms around her. 

"You know I love you," Alysia said as adjusted her hair. 

Aurelia raised her eyebrows at her  sister and giggled at her sister's demeanour; for all of her sister's foolishness, she meant well. 

“…Do I really have to go back in there?” Alysia whispered to her sister.

“Yes… and maybe apologize to the Duke's son? For father’s sake at least,” she said as she squeezed Alysia’s fingers and disappeared into the crowd.

Alysia sighed, irritated at her sister. Her father. More so, this life.

As soon as the ball was over, Alysia shuffled right up to her room glad to be rid of the cumbersome guests that came every summer. It’s not that she did not love the lavish parties, or spending days idly; she was more worn out by the routine life that she has held on to for so long.

She fell flat against her bed and stared out the window, intently listening to the chirping of cicadas that came with each summer evening, it was her most favourite sound. For as long as she could remember, the chirpings soothed her ever since her mother died. After that bleak autumn, Alysia learned something very important. And it was that she had to keep moving, she could not rewrite her past, nor could she fix it. She had not faith in the future, but she could damn well try to look forward to it. She was not striving for any form of happiness or life free from any suffering- rather she wanted to be unapologetic, living her life in perfect imperfection. To her, that was the true essence of living.

Her breathing grew shallow, as were her thoughts; soon sleep took over her, drifting Alysia to _another_ dreamless abyss.

\----------

Her eyes opened slowly, awoken by the sound of men shuffling against the floorboards.

“What…?” she began to ask, stirring under her sheets.

Alysia rubbed her eyes and rolled out of her bed, steadying her feet against the cool surface. Shivering slightly, she grabbed a dressing gown and peered out of her door. She looked down both of the hallways and found nothing but darkness on both ends, but she was certain that there was someone or something talking from further down the hallway on her left. Walking on her tiptoes, Alysia made sure to make her presence unknown, she slid lithely across the hallway, stopping barely at the turning of the stairs.

She heard two men, maybe three, deep in conversation, one of whose voice was her father.

“I can’t just send her away! It’s too soon!”

“Of course you can. She will be safely locked up there are her _abnormality_ will be hidden.” the other man spoke with slight disdain in his voice.

“But… this was not what we discussed.”

“Hush! There is no other choice. Not after the threat that came after Kirkwall.”

Her father exhaled heavily.

"We have kept her secret long enough. We must send her away before she _ruins_ this family," the man spoke again.

"Speak to her. Aurelia cannot look after her anymore, she will be busy preparing for her trip to the Conclave,” another spoke.

“Now, now… ruined is far too extreme of a word…”

“Need I remind you of what happened? She--" he stopped mid-sentence when he heard the floorboard above him creak.

“Someone's listening,” said the man as he eyed the stairs warily.

She peered at the men, one of whom was holding the hilt of his blade, she saw him turn and nudge at someone who was obscured by the darkness. Feeling sweat roll down her neck, Alysia was certain that something terrible was about to happen tonight, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to find out what it was. Disgust took over her as she started to realize that maybe her father had been lying to her all along; her stomach churned at the truth that was slowly unravelling before her. For as long as she could remember, her abnormality was sealed away after  that unfortunate event happened. She wondered if her sister Aurealia had anything to do with it?

_No, there wasn't a possibility there._

Alysia walked quickly down the hallway, feeling her heart pounding with each footstep. She made her way to the other side of the estate and quickly walked up a flight of stairs; rushing down the carpeted hallway, Alysia stopped outside a wooden door. She was uncertain if she should just barge into her sister's room or wait, but she knew that if she did wait there was a possibility that those men downstairs would realize that she was awake and that she was the one who had been listening to their conversation.

Alysia flung the wooden door open and rushed into her sister's room, she looked around the room and found no one- oddly the bed had been untouched. She had a bad feeling about this, for the life of her she did not know where her sister was. Alysia proceeded to look through her sister's belongings, an indication to tell her what could have happened to her sister. She prayed dearly that nothing terrible had befallen her, finding nothing, Alysia clenched her jaw and felt hot tears stream down her face. She heard footsteps from outside of the room; unarmed Alysia knew that she was no match for whoever it was that was after it- she had no choice but to run or hide. She pushed the windows open and peered outside, she could jump but Alysia's room was much to high up for that, and even if she could jump there was nothing that could break her fall. Alysia looked around the room, adrenaline rushing through her blood- a loud thump on the door made her jump with fright; she had no choice but to hide, there was nothing in this room that could be of use to her. 

She opened her sister's closet door and shut it tight. She slumped down on the wooden surface and covered her mouth with her hand, she tried her best to breath as quiet as she could; she shut her eyes thightly and chanted in her head.Her body grew more tense when she heard footsteps shuffle around the room, Alysia could hear the sound of her own heart beating; she opened her eyes slowly and saw a shadow hover over the room through the slight cracks in the wardrobe. She saw it's body turn towards where she was hiding, Alysia was certain that she had been caught. She braced herself for whoever it was to yank her out of the closet, but she would not go down without a fight. 

_It wasn’t my fault, she repeated to herself over and over again._

_It wasn’t._

\----------

Alysia awoke, stirring slightly, she felt her back aching from her poor choice of bed. Stretching herself—wait. She felt her hands bound by manacles, head covered by a cloth bag. Her body slumped against the wooden chair, from the ache in her back and lower body, it told her that she had been out for a quite a while. Trying to discern her surrounding she could tell from the musty smell floating about the room that she was in a basement of some sort.

Her head pounded as she tried to recall the events that took place prior to her capture but alas, nothing came to mind. The last thing she remembered was being back at the estate. Alysia had no idea why she had been imprisoned nor did she know who her captors were.

 _Could it be the men that her father was talking to?_ She thought.

But of course it couldn’t be. He wouldn't go to such extremes to take her away from the Free Marches. Or would he?

Why did she leave the Free Marches again… she could not recall. Wait—the Conclave! That’s it! She remembered. She had snuck her way into the Temple of Sacred Ashes, pretending to be her sister.

Alysia ticked the time slowly in head, deciding what her next move should be. She felt sweat roll down the bridge of her nose, it was then that she decided that she had to get out of here no matter what. She knew that if she tried to pick the lock her slight movement would rattle the chains binding here alerting the guards that she was awake.

But it was now or never.

Being the resourceful person that she was, she tried to pick open the manacles on her wrist with a pin she stitched into the hem of her sleeves. The chains connecting the manacles began to jangle and she knew that the guards had heard her.

 _Fuck_.

She heard footsteps walking towards her, Alysia’s breathing grew quicker as she tried to work the lock—she heard them walking closer. Any minute now they would arrive. Knowing that she would not escape in time, Alysia was prepared to dislocate her thumbs to pry her hands free out of the manacles.Or worse, use her "gift". 

The footsteps stopped before her, keys clanking near the iron bars.

“Shit, hurry up Alysia,” she muttered under her breath begging her fingers to move faster.

 _Click_.

“Alert the Lady Seeker, tell her that our prisoner is---” a man said with a thick Fereldan accent.

The man with leather looking armor scanned the room and found the cloth bag and manacles lying at the corner of the room. Dumbfounded his breathing grew shallow and he spoke.

“—gone. Tell her that our prisoner is gone! Alert the guards!” the man yelled, unsheathing his broad sword.

The man scurried out of the room and was greeted by a cold Nevarran female voice.

“Why does this not surprise me?” she spat.

“Come now Cassandra, I don’t think she has gone far,” said another velvety female voice.

“We cannot take any chances Leliana, she is the sole survivor who knows what happened to the Divine. Her death will be brought to justice,” Cassandra said with a harsh tone in her voice.

The Divine Justinia? Dead? How? Alysia thought while breathing in air deeply.

Little trickles of dust fell onto the floor from where Alysia had mounted her body. Trying to steady her legs and arms against the wooden pillars on the ceiling proved to be difficult; she felt her sweaty fingers slipping from its grip. Falling was the least of her problems; it was trying to fight a group of armed men while having nothing to defend herself with.

Alysia tried desperately to quieten her breathing when the Seeker scanned the room quickly, praying to the Maker that her throbbing left arm would not give way. Soon enough, her left arm betrayed her and gave way, but she quickly recovered by digging her nails deeper into the wood, causing her to bite tightly on her lower lip from the pain.

Cassandra swiftly turned around to face the exit of the door when she heard something above her shift slightly. She instantly pulled out her sword and jerked it towards the ceiling. She met a pair of deep blue eyes and long silvery hair escaping from its loose tie.

Alysia promptly fell to the ground and steadied herself with a swift motion. She counted the number of people in the room in her head, knowing that she was clearly outnumbered. She stepped backwards and eyed the broken manacles on the floor, wrapping the iron chains around her hands and using it as a makeshift weapon.

She crouched into her defensive stance, placing all of her weight on each foot, right leg forward bent at the knee, and the rear leg straight. She raised both of her arms, the left pulsating from pain—ignoring it she let out a battle cry, ready to lunge forward.

“Put your sword down and I swear I won’t hurt you!” she yelled, faltering at the thought of actually being able to defend herself with broken shackles.

Cassandra’s mouth twitched to a snarl “You would do well to put your weapon down now or so help the Maker I will kill you right now,” she hissed.

Alysia’s stomach dropped at the sight of the Seeker’s face, she knew that a combat with her would bring about her inevitable death.

“Cassandra, this is not how we treat our prisoners. We aren’t even sure she had anything to with it,” the velvety voice spoke again, face coming into view.

She was a slender redheaded woman with a cloak covering most of her short hair. Her eyes now boring into Alysia, and she recognized immediately who she was. Who the both of them were. They were undoubtedly the Right and Left Hands of the Divine.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now?” Cassandra asked bitterly.

Alysia clenched her manacles tighter and gritted her teeth. No way was she going down without a fight. “I don’t know what I did or what you want from me, but I have done nothing wrong,” she said.

The Seeker raised her eyebrows and lowered her gaze and sword, with a swift motion she grabbed Alysia’s left arm and motioned it towards her face.

“Don’t lie to me! How do you explain this?!” the Seeker yelled back.

Slightly revolted by the sight of the sickly green gash on the palm of her hand, Alysia thought long and hard at the Seeker’s question but all she could remember was having the summer ball and how she was at the Conclave, but ensuring she never told them that she was a Trevelyan. She did not know how this information would be relevant to the raving lunatic before her.

Another memory popped up in to her head. She recalled being chased by things… with many eyes and a woman… yanking her hand to safety. But that information alone was enough to remove the suspicion the both the Divine’s hands had of her.

Leliana studied Alysia's face carefully and decided, “We need her, Cassandra.”

That decision alone sent a wave of relief across Alysia. She would have rather had a purpose in this maddening situation rather than rot in prison with no idea on what she had done.

Cassandra sheathed her sword and stared squarely at Alysia, still not removing any hint of suspicion.

“Go to the forward camp Leliana. I will take her to the rift,” Cassandra said while returning her gaze to Alysia.

“What happened at the Conclave?” Alysia asked the Seeker, trying to uncover something from these absurd strings of events.

Cassandra clenched her jaw together.

“It will be easier to show you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the first chapter got out of hand with the amount of words! Will try to shorten it?


	2. Atlas Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alysia meets her companions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♫ Atlas Hands by Benjamin Francis Leftwich

Alysia shielded her eyes with the back of her hand, eyes adjusting to the sudden sunlight. Her eyes grew wide from what lay before her.

“Holy hell!” she gasped.

Alysia finally understood why Cassandra suspected her for whatever that thing was in the sky. It was an ill looking green hole hovering above their heads. Cassandra explained how Alysia literally stepped out of it, unharmed. Sort of. She walked closer to inspect the hole in the sky, her mind swimming at the thought of actually being able to have survived that ghastly looking swirl. Alysia inspected the palm of her left hand, breathing in sharply at the sickly green it shared with the sky.

Cassandra watched her intently, suspicion slowly fading as she saw Alysia comparing the two.

Upon hiking to the Temple, the pair stumbled upon trails of mangled corpses. The smell of their fresh blood made her stomach churn.

“It would be best not to linger here,” Cassandra said, unsheathing her sword.

If only she had a way to protect herself, Alysia thought.

She eyed about for armed corpses. Something to defend herself with if whatever it was that killed those people returned.

Behind a burnt bush laid a fallen man-at-arms. He had two daggers clenched in his fists. Pleased to have found weapons to protect herself with, Alysia quickly pulled it off his stiffened hands, slightly gagging from corpse’s stench. Stopping near a slope, Cassandra let out a shriek as a gooey mass of fire threw itself at her. Cassandra jumped backwards and shielded herself with her silver shield that was strapped to her back. Alysia saw another mass of fire seeping from the ground next to the Seeker and, she immediately ran towards it, with a swift leap, she cut through the demon from the head down. The demon cracked and dispersed into a spray of green gunk.

It was the same color as the gash on her palm and as the breach. She swallowed, hard.

Cassandra glowered at the dagger that found itself to Alysia’s hand. She turned her sword towards her face. “Drop your weapon. Now!”

Puzzled by the Seeker’s reaction after saving her life, Alysia gripped them even tighter. Noting how the Seeker’s face wavered at the thought of cutting her open, Alysia empathized with her and spun her daggers around, hilt-first and offered them to her. “If we ever get attacked again, please return them to me. I’d rather not die after having survived for longer than I should have,” she said while grinning.

Cassandra cocked her eyebrow up and then shook her head in understanding.

“I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenseless,” she said while turning her back to continue the hike back to the Temple and stopped. Hesitating she turned her gaze back to Alysia who was walking slowly behind her, “I should remember you agreed to come willingly.”

“I hope I don’t regret this…. Maker preserve me.” Cassandra mumbled under her breath while turning her heels back to her destination.

Alysia chuckled slightly while trying to jog at Cassandra’s pace who was rushing into a fight in progress. A burly looking dwarf with a crossbow was standing back-to-back with a slim elven mage. As she and Cassandra were claiming demons one by one, the mage grabbed Alysia’s left hand and aimed her palm towards the swirling green mass in the air from where the demons were slipping out. She felt a surge of energy coming through the back of her hand and it streamed out of her palm towards the swirl in the air. The green light that came out from her palm matched the same energy that the mass in the air did; it felt familiar yet revolting.

Alysia eyes widened at the sight of the green mass that was slowly dissipating. She bit her bottom lip, hard, feeling bewildered as to what was happening before her.

The elf released her wrist slowly as the air returned to normal; she then looked down to examine the gash on her wrist.

"Wh- what was that magic?" she asked, heart racing.

"That was no magic. Your scar, it's connected to the Breach, the hole in the sky," Solas said, briskly.

"So... I did not use... magic?" she asked, confirming.

"No... You are not a mage. And neither can I sense any magical ability from you." Solas replied, eyebrows raised at her odd question. He immediately turned his back to her, strapped his staff to his back and walked towards Varric who was checking if the demons were dead with his feet. 

Alysia massaged her left hand and stared at the hole. If it was not magic, then what is it. She felt perplexed at the lack of communication that clearly involved her– well her left arm. _Same thing_ , she thought bitterly in her head.

“What in Andraste’s tit is going on?” she exclaimed. Staring wide-eyed at Cassandra.

The Seeker shrugged and turned her face to the elf who was deep in conversation with Varric about being right about the mark on her hand being connected to the rift, but besides that he knew nothing. Alysia sighed in annoyance at her situation, but she might as well get to know the people she was stuck with. Introductions floated around shortly, the elven mage introduced himself as Solas, and the dwarf was named Varric Thethras—crossbow, Bianca. Alysia mentally jotted that last bit down in her head, snorting slightly at the adoration he had when he said the crossbow’s name.

“Wait… Varric… Why does that sound familiar?” she asked herself. “Varric…Varric—the author!” she exclaimed aloud while pointing at the burly dwarf.

Varric grinned slightly. “So you’ve heard of me.”

Evelyn chuckled. “Sort of. My sister, Aurelia is a huge fan of your work. Especially Swords and Shields.”

Crossing his arms, Varric let out a satisfied hum “And my editor says that, that was the worst book I've ever written.”

An annoyed groan let out of Cassandra’s throat, she had no time for their gleeful conversation.

Exchanging a quick look, Varric and Alysia snorted when Cassandra moved ahead of them.

She liked him already.

Sensing that there was another rift between the Temple and them, Alysia shot forward, towards it; informing her companions that there was another fight ahead.

Piles of bodies lay waste around the rift. Alysia was sure that whatever the rift was, it was a bad sign. Needless to say, as if the hole in the sky that was spitting demons out of it was not indication enough as to how bad things were already.

She threw herself in front of the rift as tall gangly demon popped out of it.

She pulled out her blades and jumped over the demon. Steadying her balance, she threw her blade at the Pride demon, square in the eye. Appreaciating her quick work, she moved on to the next demon.

After a few bruises and shrills from the demons, Alysia sealed the rift. Her teeth clenched at the pain from closing it and for whatever reason her gash started to pulsate every time she closed a rift, the pain was so close to driving her to her to tears but she stood her ground.

“You fight good,” Varric said bowing.

“Likewise,” Alysia said, bowing back.

Pressing for time, the group made their way up to the Temple, it became apparent during the journey that Solas knew a fair bit about the hole in the sky.

Alysia found his knowledge to be peculiar and for the life of her, she did not know why.

The thought soon left her as soon as she saw the sight of the forward camp, feeling glad at the reprieve. But her joy was soon cut short when she saw the Left Hand of the Divine, Sister Leliana being yelled at by an older male cleric.

“Sucks to be that guy,” Varric said while chuckling.

“How so?” Alysia asked amused at the dwarf.

“I wouldn’t push your luck with Nightingale. Roderick will get what’s coming to him.”

“Let’s hope sooner than later,” Cassandra said in amusement while passing through a sniggering Varric and Alysia.

Cassandra came to Leliana’s defense before the argument got out of hand. The cleric was clearly annoyed at being cut off started pointing at Alysia, imploring for her to be executed. At very exact moment he was yelling at her.

Alysia crossed her arms and scowled at the cleric. Before Cassandra could clear her of her charges, Alysia stood in between the two women and man.

“Listen here _Twinky_ , you see that? That is a giant hole in the sky. And in case you were too blind to notice I just saved all of you from being killed by demons coming out of that _shitstorm_ ,” she blurted out, furious at the accusation.

“And if… I don’t know… was guilty of that, then why don’t you try to kill me now?” She challenged.

Chancellor Roderick froze at his spot, slowly lowering his gaze.

“No? Then quit wasting our time. I have better things to do than listen to your empty accusations.”

Everyone stared at them in silence, stunned at the scene that was unfolding before their eyes. Chancellor Roderick tried to speak again, but held his tongue.

“That’s what I thought,” she spat, pressing on past him towards her other companions.

Varric followed her closely behind, trying to muffle his laugh.

“This should definitely be in my next book.”

\----------

The group decided that the mountain path would be the best option in order to save the stranded unit of soldiers. They made their way up the mountain, fighting demons through a ruined tunnel system.

Sounds of people yelling could be heard shortly after escaping the tunnel. Alysia and her companions raced through a narrow ravine to find Leliana’s scouts cornered by a rift. The scouts stood their ground and were glad to see that help had arrived. Alysia dropped to her knees as the rift was promptly sealed, groaning from the ache in her shoulder. 

Alerted by her whimpering Solas fell beside Alysia to see if the mark had grown a little bigger. He requested permission to touch her hand, Alysia nodded tiredly, head spinning from the pain.He gently unfolded her fingers, and traced his long slender fingers along the edges of her gash on her palm. Alysia felt some form of familiarity with his touch, his grip gentle but wanting at the same time. She felt his gaze fall on her, as if inspecting every inch of her entire being. Her breathing quickened when she saw Solas' face scrunch up into confusion when his fingers stopped briefly on the tip of hers. 

 _He knows_ , she thought. 

“Solas studied your mark while you were unconscious,” Cassandra said, interrupting them.

Solas dropped her hand quickly, straightened his back and continued forward. Alysia felt the tips of her fingers burn from the sensation of Solas’ touch, but ignored it in fear.  She bowed her head in gratitude to the elf, who mutely nodded acceptance.

“You’ll get used to him, Snowflake,” Varric said as he helped Alysia off the powdered ground.

“Snowflake?” Alysia wondered.

“Your hair.”

“Oh? Is that my nickname now? Does everyone around here have nicknames?”

“Some. That’s Chuckles,” he said pointing at Solas.

“Chuckles? Odd,” Alysia's said, her eyebrows raised.

“He’ll grow into it.”

“Cass here is called Seeker. Simple enough.”

“Has anyone given you a nickname?”

The dwarf laughed. “Probably.”

“I heard he is commonly known as a  _rotten bastard_ ,” Cassandra yelled out from ahead.

“Fitting,” Solas agreed, a hint of a smile appearing on his lips.

"Don't you start now, Chuckles," Varric said in mock-annoyance. 

Alysia's laugh grew short when she heard the elf's unexpected humour. She found it rather odd that he had any for that matter. She watched her companions walk off ahead of her, thinking that maybe, maybe her continuous tribulation wasn’t so bad after all.

 _For now_.


	3. Into the Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A highly conversational chapter but I for one am glad that the story has finally moved to Haven :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [R2s Muse](https://www.fanfiction.net/topic/95729/58880782/To-the-Void-with-That-Swearing-and-exclamations-in-Thedas) for posting a guide for swearing in Thedas.
> 
> ♫ Into the Unknown by Blackchords

The group pressed on, fighting the cold that was slowly wearing them out. Varric tried to warm his fingers; he rubbed them together while grumbling about the cold, something along the lines of missing living beneath the earth. Solas merely shook his head at Varric’s disposition. They finally made it to the temple, or rather what was left of it.

“By the tits of my ancestors! Where is the Temple?” Alysia cried.

“It’s… gone,” Cassandra said, examining Alysia’s face closely. She noted how Alysia’s eyes widen at the sight of charred remains, how their bodies barely retained its shape anymore.

“… We don’t know how it happened but there was an explosion. Everything in between here and Haven were destroyed. We have no idea how the Breach came to be, all we know is that it swirls directly above where the Temple once stood.”

“Nug balls. Shit. Um…so how exactly did I come out of that alive?”

“According to our scouts… you just did,” Cassandra said slowly.

“What do you recall last about the Conclave?” Cassandra asked.

“I don’t know… like I said earlier. Eyes. Chasing me. Person on top of a mountain. Hand. Prison.”

“Hold on Snowflake, you were at the Conclave?” asked Varric, his brows furrowing.

“Yeah. Weren’t you?”

Everyone shook their heads simultaneously and shared glances at each other. Varric eyed Alysia suspiciously, a question forming in his head.

“So. We’ve got a person of _rank_ who was allowed to be at the Conclave and no one bothered to ask _why_ she was there?”

Solas shrugged at his question.

“Her reason for being there is besides the point. She survived that explosion where no else did,” Cassandra interjected.

Varric narrowed his eyes at Cassandra, “All you care about is the Divine, Seeker.”

“Don’t start Varric,” Solas warned.

“And why should I listen to you apostate? We know nothing about you, for all we know you could have caused this.”

“If I did cause the Breach I would’ve ensured your death came swiftly with it, child of stone.” Solas snarled.

“Solas! You're not helping,” Cassandra yelled.

“Defending an apostate—”

“Knock it off! All of you,” Alysia screamed, louder than she intended to.

The three of them stared at her; mouths gaping at her outburst.

Alysia hesitated for a second then began.

“Okay Varric, you want your answers. Fine. My name is Alysia Trevelyan, youngest daughter to Bann Trevelyan of the Free Marches. I was sent to the Conclave for… reasons. Now will all of you _please_ stop fighting?” Alysia said, curtsying.“Fucking hell. And Aurelia thought _I_ was childish,” she grumbled to herself while shaking her head.

Varric smirked at Alysia, “Well kid, maybe I should call you Spitfire instead?”

“Now is not the time to jest,” Cassandra said tersely, continuing their journey through the rubble.

“No need to be angry Seeker, I was just trying to lighten the mood.”

Alysia for one was thankful for Varric’s humor. More so when the smell of sulphur and flesh started to burn her lungs. The ground made an awful crunching sound with each step they took, _probably bones_ Alysia thought. She squirmed internally at the thought.

“Be on your guard,” Cassandra said as the Breach slowly came into view.

“This day just keeps getting better and better,” mumbled Varric to himself, eyeing the red lyrium around them with disgust.

The enormity of the wreckage came into full view as they got closer the center of the Temple. Just as the came around the bend of the slope, a voice rumbled from somewhere. Alysia stood frozen to her spot, feeling the voices melding into something familiar. The voice echoed, it called out in pain and begged to be saved. Her voice held some form of familiarity but Alysia could not remember why it did. The Breach now swirled directly above them, its light painted a shade of green over everyone’s faces. Slightly below it was another rift, but this one was much larger than the others Alysia and her companions had came across. The voice called out again and Alysia racked her brains for answers, but alas, she found none. That was until she heard her voice and soon everything made sense to her.

“That was you,” Solas said.

“She called out to you. The Divine called out to you and you did _nothing_ ,” Cassandra spat and gripped Alysia by the collar.

“Hold on a minute. I am just as surprised as you are!” Alysia cried out.

“You lied to me—,” bellowed Cassandra, but their dispute was cut short when the rift started to contort itself. Several green lines streamed onto the snowy ground, tall green shards emerged slowly from where the lines were, the shards sharp enough to cut through flesh.

“I hardly think this is the time,” Varric called out, Bianca at the ready.

Cassandra removed her grip over Alysia's collar and unsheathed her sword. Aggravated by the Seeker, Alysia cursed under her breath and cautiously approached the rift, drawing her daggers out. Her heels pressed deep into the ground, and her hands shook from fear. The soldiers that had followed them into the ruin readied themselves at Cassandra’s orders.

“…Anytime now,” Solas whispered under his breath.

As soon as Solas muttered those words, a huge Pride demon popped out from the rift. It’s large body covered with dark scales, its teeth bared.

“Seal the rift and break its guard,” Solas cried out to Alysia while freezing the demon’s upper body.

She nodded at his instruction and tried to make her way towards it, but she found herself unpleasantly blocked by the demon who suddenly lunged towards her. She jumped backwards and sprinted the other way around; Alysia let out a steady breath while looking for a way to get to the rift. Finding her point of exit, she readied herself and slid in between the Pride demon’s feet and ran towards the rift. Noting her actions, Cassandra called out the demon, in an attempt to distract it from Alysia. Varric ran as quickly as he could and shot a myriad of arrows at the demon, and praised Bianca for her aim.

 _This isn't magic_ , Alysia chanted in her head .

Believing some truth in her words, she extended her arm and used her mark to seal the rift; with each second the demon seemed to take damage from it. Alysia felt her arm shaking from pain but begged herself to endure. She saw the demon fall to its knees from the corner of her eyes just as she successfully sealed the rift.

She felt the itch in her palm decreasing, slowly feeling exhaustion taking over her. Her knees buckled, without warning and she fell face first onto the ground.

\----------

She awoke to fire crackling beside her, her head pounded steadily as she tried to open her eyes. She held her head in her heads, and wondered if it had all been a dreadful dream; but the dull ache from her left arm dashed all hopes of it ever being one.

The room smelt of wood smoke and elfroot, the smell eased her perturbed mind. She lay motionless in bed for a few seconds and decided that she had to get up. She swung herself off the bed and gripped the headboard of the bed to steady her feet on to the wooden floor. The cool surface sent chills down her spine, just then she heard a clank—an elf dropped the bucket she was holding in fright at the end of Alysia’s bed.

“I-I did not know that you were awake! Are you hurt?” she asked, as she rushed to Alysia side, examining her wounds.

Alysia tried to reassure the girl that she was unduly worried. But the girl kept on rambling about this being a miracle. “I have to inform Lady Cassandra about your condition, _Herald_ ,” the elf said, rushing out of the room.

Needless to say, Alysia’s face was the definition of confused.

 _Herald_? She wondered.

Alysia shook her head, puzzled at the elf’s reaction. She searched about the room for her belongings and found her new dagger on top of a table along with a log detailing the stages of her recovery. On the chair lay a set of leather armor and below it were her boots. She wondered where her old armor was, but the thought soon left her mind when she smelt fresh baked bread from a distance. Her stomach rumbled loudly at the smell, her hunger evident.

She opened her door in hopes to find this appetizing smell but instead she was greeted by quite the spectacle.

Dozens of people lined up before her, the crowd to give way to her. Whispers escaped their lips, but everyone fell silent as she passed through them. Then she heard someone call out to her, calling her _Herald_.

Again with the Herald, she thought to herself, puzzled.

 _“Sent by Andraste herself_ ,” another spoke.

Her stomach dropped. Her day was not looking up.

\----------

She cursed herself for her continuous bad luck. In a short span of an hour, she found herself right in the middle of Cassandra declaring the reestablishment of the Inquisition. She caught Chancellor Roderick glaring at her during this announcement, most probably wanting her head on a stick quicker than she could say 'I'm innocent'.

She decided to escape her misfortune by getting to know Haven’s people but that turned out to be a horrible idea. The shopkeeper turned out to be a bleeding swindler. The quartermaster supported Loghain and still does. Haven was short on supply, no horses, not enough food to go around and the forces’ morale was low. After meeting Adan and mentally noting that he was slowly turning into a mad man, Alysia found Solas right outside of a hut. He was sitting on the ground, inspecting a tattered book he found at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Alysia crept behind him and wondered what that book was about.

"It's _rude_ to stare, Herald," Solas said, surprising her.

She placed a two fingers in front of him , "One, I'm not called Herald, it's Alysia. Two, I was not staring, I was just curious. Am I not allowed to be?" Alyisa challenged.

Solas narrowed his eyes at her, "No... but curious people do wind up dead. We don't want that now, do we?"

Alysia gulped. _Surely he must be joking_ , she thought.

"So, what in Maker's name are you doing Solas?", she asked, her eyes boring into his.

"Reading," he said curtly.

 _Oh seriously? I thought you were making patchwork_ , she thought to herself bitterly.

"I know that! But what _are_ you reading?" she asked, eagerly.

"It's about the Fade," 

"Oh... the Fade... Charming," Alysia said, propping herself to the ground next to him.

Solas smiled pleasantly at her presence, "Do you not like the idea of the Fade, _Herald_?". The title dripping with sarcasm.

_It's Alysia, you twat._

"No it's not that... I've always wondered what it was. I heard mages in the Circle of Ostwick entering the Fade for their Harrowing. But... I never really understood any of it."

He slammed his book shut and turned to her.

"So, what would you like to know about the Fade?"

"Well.. what is it actually?" she asked.

"Rather than wondering what the Fade is, one should wander what can it actually do?"

"What do you mean?" Alysia asked, her face inching closer to Solas.

He could feel her breath against him, steady; his eyes shot up to her face, he noted how her hair truly matched the snow, his gaze fell lower, to her full lips, wondering if they were as soft as it looked. He slowly felt himself losing himself in her presence and found it to be unnerving; he heard Alysia calling his name out several times interrupting his gaze on her. He cleared his throat, pushing whatever thought he had about her and begun telling her about the first time he encountered the Fade.

\----------

Alysia sat there for a long time listening intently to Solas explaining about the Fade. He told her of his stories during the Fade and his spirit friends, Wisdom and Purpose. She couldn't help but notice the lines at the side of his eyes crinkle every time he smiled. His eyes was the most gorgeous blue she had ever seen in her life, it reminded her of the sea, beautiful but darker when you got deeper into it. She snapped up from her thoughts when she realised that Solas had been waiting for her response.

"So... you speak to demons?" she asked.

Solas' face contorted in to displeasure. "They were not demons when I encountered them. The Fade reflects you, all that you are appears in the Fade with you. With proper understanding and knowledge, Spirits can be life long friends."

"That's amazing!" Alysia exclaimed, grinning.

Solas approved of her enthusiasm, smiling at her. The lines that Alysia started to adore appeared on the sides of his eyes. 

"You look at the world in a wonderful way, Solas. I've never met anyone like you," she said, feeling a little embarrassed at what she just said.

Intrigued, Solas lifted his eyebrow, "I'm glad you think so."

Alysia could definitely feel herself blushing, she bit her lower lip and cast her glance towards the ground.

"Could we... possibly be friends then?" she asked, her gaze still on the ground.

"That... well..." he paused when he saw Alysia slowly glancing at him, her eyes peeking at him from below her lashes.

He gulped.

Afraid of his rejection, Alysia got up suddenly.

".... I should be on my way now. Attending to Herald matters," she said, walking off.

 _Herald matters_ , he chuckled to himself.

 _What an intriguing human_ , he thought while waving good-bye to her and returning to his book.

\----------

Alysia found herself wandering outside of Haven, somewhat thankful that she could finally find some peace and quiet, away from people who kept calling her Herald or whatever divine Chantry bullshit they could come up with. She buried her face in her hands and grumbled. Her long hair completely washing over her body.

She bent her back backwards, lifting her head towards the still sky, taking a lungful of the crisp cold air. She felt a pang of sadness hit her; reality slowly seeped into her when she realized that she was truly the only person who survived the Conclave.

She clenched her fingers into a ball, and hit the rock that she was sitting on. She cried not from the pain on her sore knuckles but rather because she had nothing and no one. She dearly missed her sister, for whatever it was worth- her father and the help, the smell of home, the long strips of crop fields, and the busy marketplace, mostly during the Grand Tourney. She and Aurelia attended it for as long as she could remember, watching people from all walks of life show their valour and martial prowess during the games.

Sighing, she turned her hands over, gazing at her palms. She noted the difference between her left and right palm. Staring at them made her heart ache.

She missed the things that made her Alysia. Just Alysia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading so far :) again, your feedback would be most appreciated.


	4. What it's Worth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short Cullen POV chapter and he finally meets the Inquisitor, and he really doesn't like her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♫ What it's Worth by The Engineers

He slumped into his chair while rubbing his temple with his fingers, his head pounded from the reports that came to him since the explosion. The reports that he had to fill out over-piled on his desk, threatening to topple over him. Letting out a deep sigh, he grabbed another report, if there was anything he dreaded more, it was paperwork. He hated the endless amounts of writing, sitting on his chair all day, and barely being able to function with his lack of sleep. All of his Templar training had not prepared him for this, he mused.

Neither had it prepared him for the horrible events that took place just days before; these last few days had by far been the worst of his life. He'd been cooped up in his room filling out reports after reports, while trying to keep Haven's people's eagerness about the Herald at bay. He'd never personally met the Herald but he had a hunch that she was not going to make his duty anymore pleasant, he stared distastefully at the report that one of Leliana’s agents gave him to review, he squinted his eyes at the report, unable to make heads or tails of the handwriting; after several minutes he decided that he wouldn’t have much luck trying to decipher it and decided to take a stroll through Haven.

 _Fresh air is what he needed_ , he thought.

He got up from his chair and briskly walked through his door, and was greeted by a whiff of cold air. He trembled slightly at its touch and clung onto his cloak tighter. He made his way through the barracks, nodding in appreciation at his soldiers diligently training. As he passed through their tents, he heard one of his men whispering to another, “Did you see the Herald earlier Gregor, she looks like one of us.”

“One of us? What do you mean ‘one of us’?” Gregor asked.

“Well… for starters she’s human,” he announced proudly.

“That doesn’t mean anything…” the other said, scratching his chin.

“Well… coulda’ been a knife ear,” he said while snickering.

“Jacob, you best be watching your tongue. Especially around the Com—”, he paused when he saw a shadow towering over him. He turned his head around to greet the figure but then he saw the Commander staring down at him, arms crossed.

“Commander!” he yelped, jumping backwards.

The Commander tilted his head sideways, waiting for some excuse to slip from their mouths.

“I—ah—we, were taking a break is ‘all,” one spoke while eyeing his friend to agree with him.

His friend just lowered his gaze to the ground, afraid of the Commander.

Amused at their reaction, the Commander raised his eyebrow and said, “If you can take your time off practice to tell tales about the Herald, I’m sure you have time to help our Quartermaster carry those heavy logs into the Chantry.”

The both of them glanced nervously at each other and nodded furiously. Before they had the chance to speak again, the Commander swiftly turned around and waved his finger at them, tauntingly.

\----------

  
He made his way to his favourite spot in Haven, the lake. The air was always so still and he always found himself to be more relaxed when he sat here, doing nothing in particular. It helped him clear his mind, sometimes.And that was he needed, especially when his mind was always so cluttered with fear. 

As he was about to sit near the lake he stopped when he saw something piled over by snow. He wondered what creature lay beneath it while unsheathing his sword slowly. He crept at it slowly, his breath low; the pile of snow shifted, as he was about to sink his sword deep into it—it let out a sneeze.

He jumped backwards, confused.

The pile of snow moved again, shaking slightly. A hand emerged from underneath, nails scratching the powdered ground.

“Fuck,” it hissed.

He narrowed his eyes at it, _could it be a feral creature_ , he thought.

Before he could confirm his suspicion, the creature lifted itself off the ground, shaking the snow of itself. The Commander was greeted by a figure, its hair slightly reaching its lower back. The figure stretched itself, shaking whatever snow that was left on its body, muttering under its breath.

The figure turned around to face the Commander, whose face was the perfect definition of confused. It giggled slightly while asking if he could lend it his coat. The Commander nodded slowly, trying to register what was happening.

“Well, are you going to cover a _lady_ from the cold?” she asked, her left arm extended. "I somehow manage to fall asleep here and that was clearly a terrible idea," she said while shivering slightly.

The Commander glanced down at her hand, looking at the gash on her palm. He looked back up into her deep blue eyes, and back again at her palm.

 _Oh shit_.

“Herald!” he finally spoke while he removed his cloak swiftly and handed it to her.

“Ah… yes,” she said, while wrapping it around her slender figure. The Commander couldn’t help but compare her petite frame to his cloak. Smirking internally at the thought.

_How can she be the Herald? She's puny._

He rubbed the back of his neck, recalling his brief meeting with her—if one could call it that. He remembered instructing his men to lift her off the ground right after watching her fall out of the rift; he shuddered slightly remembering the sickly green that emitted from her hand.

He was also present during her fight, two days before. He watched her slay a Pride demon ferociously, without a hint of doubt in her face and when he saw her race towards the rift, he was at awe how quick she was with her feet but he was also annoyed at the fact that she dove head first into battle without thinking about her safety nor the Inquisition's soldier's that were with her.

She bit her lower lip while staring at him, wondering what in Maker’s name is making him stare at her, she wasn't entirely sure if was thinking good or ill of her, as most often people thought the latter of her. She cleared her throat and extended her right arm forward,and introduced herself.

“I am her,” she said, grinning.

The Commander blinked again at her, as if trying to understand whatever language she was speaking to him. _Great Cullen, your first impression screams nervous Chantry boy. He bowed his head at her greeting, forgetting entirely that she had extended her arm out for him to shake._

Cullen groaned internally at how stupid he looked for bowing.

Alysia folded her arm back, trying to muffle her laugh.

“It is an honour to meet you—”, she paused and sniffed his cloak, “… elderflower,” she said, teasing him.

Cullen blushed furiously at her “Ah… Cullen Rutherford. I’m the Commander of the Inquisition, Herald,” he said, his voice shaking with either annoyance or awkwardness.

He saw her face twist into a slight annoyance, for whatever reason. He started to open his mouth to apologize then shut it quickly, afraid that another stupid remark might fall out of his mouth. He kicked his boot onto the snowy ground and shifted awkwardly at her stare. After a moment, he found the courage to look up at her again, and he saw her mouth twitch into a smile, then slowly she clasped her hand around her mouth and laughed uncontrollably.

 _Maker, she's teasing me,_ he muttered under his breath when he saw her tilting her head at him.

“Well Commander, thank you for keeping me warm,” she said while handing the cloak back at him, “I’m sure we’ll see each other very soon.”

Before Cullen could say anything, Alysia was well off on her way back to Haven. He buried his head in his hand, his body hot from his encounter with the Herald.

_Maker, she will be the death of me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to the multiplayer banter between Luka and Tamar, Cullen does in fact smell like elderflower and oakmoss ;)
> 
> Once again thank you for reading, feedbacks would be appreciated.


	5. Warm Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Where did she learn to swear like a dwarf?"
> 
> ♫ Warm Shadow by Fink

Alysia rushed back to her room without looking back at the Commander, blushing intensely at whatever it was that overcame her to act like a seductress. She shook her head in embarrassment while blaming it on the cold, largely at her stupid idea of falling asleep on the snow. She crouched by the bush near her cabin, double-checking if the crowd from this morning had dispersed. Much to her happiness no one was standing around; she sprinted to her room and shut the door behind her. Alysia quickly sat on the floor and faced herself towards the fire, letting its warmth lull her shivering body. As she was about to place her hands over the fire, she heard someone knock on her door. Alysia rolled her eyes at it and announced for whomever it is to come in.

It was the elf from this morning; she came to tell her that Lady Cassandra was looking for her in the War Room. As Alysia nodded, the elf saw her rubbing her hands together from the corner of her eyes while shivering. She paused for a second, as if to say something, then stopped. She looked at Alysia again, whose face was now peaceful at being basked by the fire’s warmth.

 _She’s just like us_ , the elf thought.

“Are you going to just stand there watching me, or would you like to sit down with me and catch your breath? I’m sure Cassandra has been working you hard enough,” Alysia said while beckoning the elf to sit next to her on the floor.

The elf hesitated for a moment and then agreed. She propped herself next to Alysia in silence. A few moments passed and Alysia spoke again.

“So… um, what was your name again?”

“Oh, it’s Rhoswen, Herald,” she said, surprised by the Herald’s friendliness.

Alysia smiled and spoke again, “Rhoswen, what a beautiful name,” she said, beaming at the elf.

“Oh… I would appreciate if you stopped calling me Herald, please? We are friends now after all?” Alysia paused, studying Rhoswen’s face. “Call me Aly instead?”

The elf’s eyes grew wide, panic taking over her.

“But… I couldn’t! Andraste herself sent you. You _are_ the Herald of Andraste—”,

Alysia interrupted her and tried to reason with Rhoswen.

“Listen, I’m sure everyone believes that. But I’m just me… just Alysia. So please, treat me as one of you?” Alysia said, her eyes growing warm.

The elf frowned for a minute then nodded her head slowly, agreeing.

“Great! Now that that’s settled, I should probably see Cassandra now. Thanks for spending some time with me, Rhoswen,” Alysia said, while getting off the floor.

“The pleasure is all mine, Her—“ she stopped when she saw Alysia smirking at her, “…Alysia.”

“Not quite but that’s a good start,” Alysia said, chuckling.

Surprised by Alysia's sudden warmness towards her, Rhoswen hastily got off the floor, but before leaving the room she bowed at Alysia, who nodded.

“Guess she’s still afraid of me,” Alysia said loudly to herself.

\----------

Alysia heard muffled conversations behind the door and contemplated if she should interrupt whatever conversation it was that was going on. She shuffled back and forth until she heard someone loudly say her title. She twitched internally. She inched her ear closer to the door, trying desperately to catch what was being said about her.

“How could you declare the Inquisition reborn? The fighting will grow worse now and we barely have enough troops to defend Haven as it is,” a deep voice spoke.

“Commander?” Alysia speculated.

The voice continued, “And _your_ Herald seems unfit for her duty. How could you involve someone we barely even know into this mess?”

“It had to be done,” Cassandra said “We could not locate the Champion of Kirkwall neither could we find the Hero of Fereldan, she is our only option of fixing this.”

“Her presence is to our advantage,” Leliana agreed.

“The Herald has helped with morale, especially after closing the rift,” Ambassador Montilyet chimed.

“—Why are you encouraging this, Ambassador?” he asked, exasperated.

Cassandra shook her head, a smile forming on her lips “You have yet to meet her, Commander. Don’t be so quick to judge.”

“ I have met her briefly. And I don't think that—”

Alysia unceremoniously announced her presence, by kicking the door open. She tilted her head sideways and examined the room. Her eyes locked gravely on to the Commander's and she saw him shift uncomfortably under her gaze.

 _He thinks I'm unfit_ , she said to herself, half-smiling, mostly smirking. 

As if he understood her expression, Cullen turned his face away from her, to hide his annoyance.

Cassandra ushered Alysia into the room. “May I introduce you to the Lady Alysia Trevelyan, of the Free Marches, but recently, the Herald of Andraste.”

Cullen grunted to himself. _Perfect_ , he thought. _She’s a noble._

Alysia glared at Cassandra when she heard her call her the Herald. A look of distaste appearing on her face.

“…About that Cassandra, can we please stop calling me that? Herald, I mean.”

Cassandra stared at Alysia and then at everyone else, as if she had said something terrible like drinking darkspawn blood for fun. Cassandra cleared her throat, ignoring Alysia’s request entirely. She did a round of introductions, re-introducing Leliana and Josephine to Alysia. She then introduced Cullen to her, Alysia smiled at him warmly, or rather feigned warmness at him, he paused at her smile, and bowed curtly.

 _She’s the Herald, be nice,_  Cullen reminded himself.

Soon after introductions were made, the unpleasantry of the war room activities began. Fights erupted from all sides, neither of them agreed on who they should side with to seal the Breach. Cullen was apprehensive about siding with the Mages, reasoning that a swirling hole in the sky needn’t anymore magic being thrown at it. But Leliana and Cassandra were dead set on getting the mages, believing the Templars would do more harm to the Breach than any good.

Alysia sighed loudly, growing bored at their argument. She then felt everyone’s glance fall upon her, realizing that she was the tiebreaker in this situation.

“Okay… Hold on. You want me to decide?” Alysia asked, drawing in a sharp intake of breath.

“You _are_ the Herald,” Josephine said.

Alysia brows furrowed, “I’m not the—fine. Let’s just say we pick the Templars,” she said while looking at Cullen briefly, “or the mages,” now looking at Leliana and Cassandra. “… We still don’t have enough resources to get to either of them nor do we have the people who could brave the journey. I, the _Herald_  would not risk their lives at our ill-prepared state.”

The three of them gaped at her, shocked at her use of title, even if there was a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“—Neither do we enough influence to get either rebel factions to join us,” Josephine said into the awkward silence. “Acquiring Mother Giselle as our ally is our top priority before choosing any other allies. We can find her near Redcliffe. If we have her, everything else should fall into place.”

“But Josephine, we can’t just waltz into the Hinterlands without any weapons or men,” Alysia said, frowning.

She placed two fingers onto the map of Haven and began tracing invisible lines on it.

“Look, we can’t ask Harritt to make us anymore weapons, he is already elbows deep with requisitions from Threnn, and he has had barely any time to sleep. We also can’t risk the lives of our men who are still healing; Adan does not have enough manpower or supplies to heal anymore injured people. All we need to figure out is getting a steady supply of food into Haven, if we have any hunters willing to go out to wild to secure some meat from rams and druffalo, we should be good for a while. All that’s left is to secure a safe trade route, so we can get other supplies that are beyond our reach.”

She looked up from the map and saw the four of them staring at her. She shifted nervously under their gaze, ”It’s just a thought.”

The four of them exchanged looks amongst each other, nodding their heads.

Leliana spoke into the awkward silence, “So… where do we start?”

“Before we start this… plan. Promise me that you will leave to the Hinterlands to see Mother Giselle as soon as it is done,” Cassandra said.

“Sorry? You want _me_ to go? I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Alysia said, almost yelling.

“Now now Herald, she did ask for _you_ specifically,” Cassandra said while ushering her out the door.

Alysia gripped the side of the door with her right arm, almost leaving nail marks.

“You wouldn’t!” Alysia gasped to which Cassandra nodded terrifyingly.

“You're worse than Seggrit! And he’s the biggest nug-humper I have ever seen in my life,” Alysia said while trying to force her legs to stay in place.

Cassandra pushed her out of the room harder and Alysia fell onto the floor, bum first. She glared up at the Seeker who looked unapologetic.

“By the tits of my ancestors! Fine. I will go. But in turn you all will stop calling me Herald when we are in private,” she said, while pointing at each of them.

Alysia got off the floor and patted the dust off herself, “Now, good day to all of you,” she said as she slammed the door closed.

Cullen shook his head at her, while trying to muffle his laugh, “Where did she learn to swear like a dwarf?”

“Varric… no doubt,” Cassandra said bitterly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading so far, feedbacks would be appreciated :)


	6. Eyes Closed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Small steps, Herald. That's how you're going to get through this."
> 
> ♫ Eyes Closed by The Narrative

Varric watched Alysia grumble to herself while walking out of the Chantry; he noticed her walking even faster when she realized that Threnn was walking over to her. Alysia quickly turned away and pretended to not see Threnn at all and made a shortcut through Leliana’s tent and jumped off the short wall, only to land right in front of Varric, who was polishing Bianca.

Varric knew something was up, he noticed it in the way her face was scrunched up and how quickly she wanted to leave the Chantry.

“Is everything alright, Snowflake?” Varric asked her.

Wordlessly, Alysia just fell dramatically beside Varric, her hair entirely burying her face.

“Why can’t I just become one with the ground, Varric?” she said theatrically.

“Because that would mean that you’re dead,” he said, amused.

“Not literally Varric,” Alysia replied while waving her hands up in the air, her face still buried with hair.

“So, what’s wrong?” Varric asked again, his eyes now warm with concern.

Alysia looked up at him as if she was going to either cry or throw a very large object at someone. She scooted herself closer to the fire and patted for him to sit down beside her.

He obliged by placing Bianca on the ground next to him and turned to her.

Alysia hesitated for a moment as if trying to find the right words to explain the mess that she had found herself in. But her eyes darted to Bianca, which was now covered with little bits of snow.

“So, why Bianca? Is she some scorned lover you had back home?” she asked while pointing at Bianca with her chin.

“That’s a long story, Snowflake. But… it does involve a girl and her promise.”

“Ah-hah! I knew it! It always involves a girl,” Alysia announced smugly while chewing on the tip of her thumb.

“One point for the Herald,” Varric replied and chuckled.

“So, why can’t you tell me the story? Of Bianca I mean.”

“Because, it’s the one story I can never tell,” Varric replied while glancing at Bianca with a hint of longing in his eyes.

“Fair enough. So how did you get… Bianca?”

Varric laughed to himself and waved his finger at her, as if to deny her the answer. “So full of questions. Small steps, Herald. That’s how you’re going to get through this.”

“I’ve been going through that since day one. Better me than Cassandra, don’t you think?”

“True. The Seeker can be a little intense,” he said while looking up at the hole in the sky. “But, she only does it because she must. We’d be living in chaos now if it weren’t for you and her right now. She’s just trying to make sense of this entire situation as much as you are.”

Alysia looked at the dwarf in disbelief, largely because he was coming to Cassandra’s side for once. She always saw them bickering most of the time and for Varric to acknowledge that Cassandra’s methods mean no harm must mean that she was truly trying to help the Inquisition and those under it. Alysia blew an odd hair out of her face and smiled at Varric, who was looking at her directly.

“You’re really something Varric.”

“So are you, Snowflake. You mean a lot to the people here, don’t forget that.”

With those words Alysia honestly felt relieved somehow. Sure, there were many people who depended on her but for whatever it was worth, her title gave them hope. Hope that maybe everything would turn out okay for them and that somehow made Alysia feel that she would be okay too.

She smiled to herself and whispered something to Varrric, who nodded with a smirk on his face.

\----------

Cassandra saw Leliana stride into the war room, in her hand was a single sheet of paper. She shut the door behind her and acknowledged the room, a slight bemused expression painted her face.

“The Herald says that she won’t be attending the meeting today, thus it is adjourned to another time,” she announced, while absent-mindedly checking her gloves.

“Is the Lady Trevelyan alright?” Cassandra asked, her face now held a look of concern.

“Yes, yes. She is well,” Leliana replied while handing the missive to her. “She has found herself rather…. occupied and Varric has assured me that he will be with her at all times.”

“What is she up to, Sister Leliana?” Cullen asked as he looked up from the missive Cassandra handed to him.

Leliana shrugged but a hint of a smile appeared on her face, “She didn’t really say. But a little bird tells me that… she’s determined.”

“Determined?” he asked, his head titled to the side.

“I better tell the Ambassador that our meeting today has been cancelled. She will not like this news,” Cassandra said while walking out off the room.

Leliana smirked at Cullen and bowed, and left the room shortly after Cassandra.

Cullen found himself rooted to his spot, his mind now working. He wondered what the Herald was up to; if anything he was concerned that her reckless behavior might be her undoing. He shook his head at the thought; he knew that Varric would keep her safe and if anything the dwarf was capable of besides his writing, it was his promises. He picked up the stack of papers Cassandra left for him before the meeting started, and sighed at the amount of work that might keep him occupied through the night, he brought them with him to his cabin and tossed them precariously with the other pile of reports that were waiting for him.

Cullen rubbed his temple with his gloved fingers and sighed heavily when he felt a headache threatening to form at the back of his head; he looked at the pile of papers and back out the window, absently tracing the scar on his lip with his index finger. He decided that maybe this wasn’t the best time to be reading or writing reports, some time away from being cooped up in his cabin might do him some good before busying himself with menial reports. He walked outside of his cabin and stretched his arms over his head, feeling the tension on his back ease with each stretch he made. He lowered his feet back to the ground slowly and rolled his shoulders. He blew out air from his mouth in satisfaction and strolled over to the training field, and watched his recruits focusing on their training. He glanced downwards at his sword and felt the urge to train with his men, knowing that he somehow was out of practice ever since he agreed to join the Inquisition.

“To work,” he said to himself.

\----------

Cullen was at this task for hours, sparring for a while with his men while barking corrections out to them and occasionally praising them, to which his recruits beamed back at him determined to get another compliment. The sun was beginning to set, its lavender hue threatening to creep down from the mountains; Cullen pushed his sweaty hair out of his face and looked up towards the mountain wondering where the Herald was, concern growing. It wasn’t until he heard laughters coming from up the road that made his concern dissipate; like him everyone around him stopped what they were doing to stare at the distant sound, now growing closer.

  
Alysia Trevelyan was now laughing with Varric who was now walking beside a very large druffalo; her hair was tied up into a loose bun, her full face coming into view. She was sitting on top of a druffalo as if it were a horse, the druffalo seemed to huff in satisfaction each time she placed her hand on its head to pet it. On each side of the druffalo were large makeshift saddlebags that appeared to contain various meats and pelts; there were bushels of elfroot, large bag of iron and other miscellaneous supplies. She got off the druffalo and pulled out a tuft of grass from her satchel for the druffalo to eat, it quickly devoured the grass while licking Alysia’s palm for more. She giggled at the druffalo while scratching its chin, slowly leading it to the stable area—which was now currently unoccupied from their lack of horses. She removed whatever supplies she found from the hills and placed them on the ground with Varric’s help, who was now penning the beast.

She placed large bag over her shoulder and walked straight to Harrit and started a conversation with him. Cullen watched their muffled conversation and wondered what they were talking about—a few moments later he saw Harrit beaming at her while shaking her hand. The man swiftly turned around and barked a few orders to his men, who were now looking at Alysia with pure adoration. Alysia laughed while waving her hand and walked off with Varric.

Cullen dug his sword deep into the ground absent-mindedly, he wasn't sure if he should admire her for her work or if should be annoyed at her childishness of wasting the Inquisition's time today. He stared at smith hands who were now busy at work, wondering if he could truly place his trust in a silly noblewoman.

\----------

The very next morning, Alysia refused to get out of bed. Her body ached from the work she did with Varric, groaning loudly at each muscle she moved. Absently she stared at the woods that were crackling from the hearth, she shivered slightly and wrapped the thick blanket around her tighter. She shut her eyes briefly and turned on her back to face the ceiling, and stared at it for the longest time. She rolled out of bed when she noticed the sun was slowly rising, brightening the room, she quickly got dressed and walked over the basin and washed her face, she trembled slightly at the odd trails of water that rolled down her neck. She titled her head from side to side, relieving the ache in her bones and headed off the chantry, she internally hoped that she could actually find something to eat before the meeting began—Maker only knew how long that would take.

\----------

When Alysia walked into the room, she found Cassandra deep in conversation with Josephine. Josephine shot up from the conversation when she noticed Alysia walking towards them; Josephine greeted her graciously and notified her that Cullen and Leliana would be a little late. Cassandra nodded at her curtly and offered her an extra apple that she was carrying.

“Please,” Alysia said as she grabbed the apple, quickly sinking her teeth into it. She felt its juices spilling from the side of her lips, and smiled in happiness. Her stomach for the most part thanked her as it grumbled in appreciation.

“You’re welcome,” Cassandra said, while smiling wryly.

Alysia grinned and nodded a thank you to her silently; she leaned against the cold stones of the war room and waited for everyone else to drop in. She absently started to clench her left fingers in and out of a ball for not apparent reason; it was an action she seemed to continuously do right after sealing the rift at the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

“Does it bother you?” Josephine asked, looking up from the paper she was reading.

“Not really,” Alysia replied softly while yawning.

Not long after, Cullen and Leliana both walked into the room, each of them carrying missives. Alysia straightened her back, trying her hardest to act very Herald-like; she greeted both Leliana and Cullen and asked if the meeting could finally start.

“Quiet the scene yesterday, lady Trevelyan,” Leliana said while grinning at her, or rather poking fun at her.

Alysia tilted her head sideways, confused. “I don’t recall causing a scene yesterday…”

Both Cassandra and Cullen snorted loudly, causing Alysia eyes to dart towards them. Cullen quickly muffled his laugh with his gloved hand and cleared his throat.

“You helped Haven and word spreads quickly in a small place like this, the people say they saw you herding a druffalo back into Haven with supplies. It was apparently a sight to behold,” Cassandra said dryly while trying to stop herself from smiling.

Alysia chewed on her bottom lip while staring at all of them, they were clearly making fun of her. For the first time in a long time, she had nothing clever to spout out; neither did she have any curses for them. She rolled her eyes when she heard Cullen voice’s.

“It was, Lady Seeker. Might I add that she was in fact _riding_ the druffalo, and the sun setting behind her was as if the Maker was guiding her back home to us. She was _truly_ the vision of Andraste’s chosen one,” he said while smirking at her.

 _Perfect, now it’s his turn to mock me_.

What made it even worse was his damn smirk, that stupid smirk combined with that scar on his upper lip made his teasing all the worse. She narrowed her eyes at him, she will get him for this, she thought. Before she could come up with a retort, Leliana quickly begun to speak.

“Come, let us start with today’s meeting. Maker knows that we have a lot of ground to cover.”

Everyone turned their eyes to the map while Cassandra read her report loudly.

“As promised, lady Trevelyan will head down to the Hinterland to see Mother Giselle.” To which Alysia groaned and rubbed her temple.

Everyone grinned at her as if reminding her that she did promise the entire room that she would go after she took care of business in Haven.

Alysia stared into the air for a moment and looked back at them, “Fine. Fine. I’ll go,” she said while crossing her arms.

“While you are out there, could you please speak to Master Dennet? He used to serve the previous arl of Redcliffe and took care of his mounts and is one of the finest horse-master that I've come to know. We are severely lacking in any kind of mounts besides the one… druffalo,” Cullen said smirking again at her.

 _Stupid smirk_ , Alysia said to herself. How she wished she could walk across the room and hit that stupid smirk right off its face. It was so devilish yet captivating.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and blew air out of her mouth.  
“Okay. Done,” she said while looking away from Cullen.

“Another matter, your father has sent a missive to us. Word has reached the Free Marches of your survival and your title. He sends his… regards,” Leliana said while handing the letter to Alysia who hesitantly grabbed it. She stared at it for a while and tucked it safely in her pocket.

“Right. If all other matters are taken care of for the day. Can we call it a day?” she asked, while staring at her feet.

The advisors in the room exchanged glances amongst each other and nodded at each other.

“That would be all,” Josephine announced while scribbling something on to her report, while walking out of the room. Everyone in the room bowed at one another and left the room, except Alysia who was rooted to her spot, pretending to stare at the map intently.

She felt something swell from within her.

\----------

Cullen walked slowly behind Leliana, hoping to find out what the missive contained. He stopped briefly outside of her tent, and paced back and forth wondering if he should actually be asking the spymaster about this. He pushed the thought behind him and walked briskly into her tent—“You won’t get any answers out of me, Cullen,” Leliana said without turning to him, dropping his title entirely.

_She was pissed._

“The truth should not come from me, you should ask the lady yourself,” she said while turning to him.

Without replying, he nodded in understanding at her and walked out of her tent. He thought briefly about Leliana on his way to his cabin and how vastly different she was to the woman he met at the circle, she was much softer back then and was easily amused at everything. He recalled how close she was with the Hero of Fereldan, how Leliana would shoot her loving glances but her love was never reciprocated. Every now and then he would catch her staring at nothing and whatever softness she held in her previous self would show.

Cullen knew that he shouldn't have bothered asking Leliana about the missive at all, he felt guilty, because what she said was true, he should have asked Alysia himself. He remembered her face when Leliana passed her the letter, she looked horrified or rather afraid—he found that to be peculiar but more so, he wanted to know what troubled her so deeply.

Cullen turned on his heels and marched back to the Chantry, determined to find out what was bothering her. He did not know why he desperately wanted to but the desire to keep eating at him.

Cullen pushed the war room door open but he found no one there. He scratched the side of his face and wondered where Alysia was. He then proceeded to search for her in her cabin, stopping briefly to ask Varric if he had seen her. The dwarf shrugged at his question and couldn’t recall if he had seen her.

_He’s lying._

He continued to her cabin and knocked on it. There was no reply, he waited briefly and knocked again, a deep sense of foreboding started to fill him on his third knock. He clenched his jaw and opened the door, he found no one there. Her room looked that same as she was left, the only thing missing was her satchel. He quickly shut her door and made his way towards Solas. Cullen knocked on Solas’s door and heard a muffled yes for him to enter.

“What can I do for you, Commander?” Solas asked, puzzled at the Commander presence.

“Have you seen the Herald?” Cullen asked, his body trembling with suppressed anger.

“No? Can’t say that I have seen her all morning,” Solas said perplexed, while looking up from his parchment of paper.

“Thank you,” Cullen said while walking out of Solas’s cabin and shutting the door behind him.

_Where in Maker’s name is she?_

He marched towards the training field to tell Cassandra that the Herald is possibly missing, the end of his cloak swished with each step her took. Cullen found Cassandra hitting a practice dummy, she was in mid-fight when he called out to her, Cassandra dropped her sword to the ground and looked up. She saw Cullen walking quickly towards her and wondered what his urgency was.

He looked at Cassandra squarely, his breath now racing.

“What I’m about to say is in strict confidence and no one under any circumstance is to know about this,” he whispered to her.

Confounded, Cassandra nodded.

“The Herald is gone.”

“Wait. What?” Cassandra exclaimed that made the recruits around her stare at her.

Cullen waved them off and stared back at Cassandra. “Hush, only the inner circle is to know about this.”

“How sure are you that she is gone?”

“I don’t know. I just do. In any case, I think Varric knows something.”

“Varric? Why would he know where she is?” Cassandra asked, her tone now serious. Somehow whenever Varric was involved in something it always made Cassandra’s stomach turn.

“We shall meet in the war room at mid-day. I will inform Josephine,” Cassandra said while turning to walk back to the Chantry.

Cullen turned towards Haven’s gate. He fumed at each minute they wasted on not looking for her, _he definitely could not place his trust in her._


	7. Take Your Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where we catch up with Alysia and a certain stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally planned to be broken up into two parts. But oh well, hope you enjoy reading it. :)
> 
> ♫ Take Your Time by Cary Brothers

Her hands shook as she gripped the letter. She wished that she had been dreaming. She shut her eyes tight and bit her bottom lip as hard as she could and opened her eyes, she hadn’t been dreaming, this wasn’t a dream. She tucked her hands deep into her pockets and trembled, not from the cold but from something deep within her that made her feel so vulnerable. Alysia continued walking up the path her shoes crunched against the thick snow, she did not know where or how far she had gotten away from heaven, all she remembered was running for dear life after reading the letter.

Alysia pushed her hair backwards, away from the cold wind that was blowing on her face. She shivered from the cold, she could barely see or feel her feet now which was buried deep in snow.

 _I should turn back_.

But where was back she did not know. She did not know if she could return back to Haven, what if they found out the contents of the letter. Leliana knew but how long could the spymaster keep her secret. Alysia cursed herself for not packing warmer clothes, she crossed her arms around her chest to try and keep warm. She noticed the sky was slowly growing dark; it’s light blue now painted into a nearly sinister grey. She knew that she would undoubtedly freeze to death if she stayed out here even longer, somehow she found the idea of dying to be comforting, she should have died back then, she knew that she should have died back at the temple but the Maker was obviously playing some sick joke to keep her alive. Why was the Maker punishing her, she thought, tears forming at the side of her eyes. Alysia wiped her tears and pressed on, silently hoping that her death would be swift.

\----------

The sound of galloping could be heard in the distant, vapor forming as the mount huffed with each gallop. The stranger on the mount pulled on its hood closer to its face, obscuring their identity.

“Woah,” the stranger said to the mount, instructing it to stop when they came around the bend.

The stranger got off the horse, their boots made a clanking noise when it hit the snowy ground. The stranger looked around the area as if looking for something, it knelt to the ground and grabbed a pile of snow from the ground and sifted through it, the stranger then brought the pile of snow up to its nose and sniffed it. It then wiped the snow off their hands and got on their horse again, instructing it to gallop forward; their silhouette slowly disappeared into the cold dark night.

\----------

She felt something thick against her skin and nuzzled her face closer to it, appreciating the warmth. Her body ached and her mind was blank, she tried to look up but her eyes only formed blurred images. She could feel something move under her, it was too soft to be the wood of a wagon and too hard to be of a human. Unable to determine where she was, she drifted back to sleep.

\----------

She heard people talking, half-asleep she could not understand what they were saying. She could no longer feel the movement under her, but she could feel sunlight and was fairly certain she was lying on a roll out bed. She tried to move her body but something or someone appeared and ran their fingers through her hair.

“You’re safe. I promise.”

Alysia tried to turn her face to see this stranger but her body would not budge.

“Go back to sleep, you’re safe.”

Alysia nodded silently and fell back asleep.

\----------

She shifted uncomfortably when she felt sweat pooling at the small of her back, the heat was slowly giving her lungs a bit of life, and her breathing grew steadier with each breath she took. She could finally feel her entire being, her body no longer ached nor did her fingers and feet feel numb. She felt herself again. Alysia rolled to her side and slowly opened her eyes.

She was greeted by a rather large tree, its branches stretched out as far as her eyes could see, she felt so small underneath it. She reached her hand out and started to trace the outline of the branches above her, she hummed softly as the wind blew her hair gently. The tree swayed with each passing breeze, its leaves slowly falling onto the ground, one fell onto Alysia’s hair, its green contrasting against her snowy hair.

“You’re still the same as ever,” a voice spoke behind her.

“What can I say? I aim to please,” Alysia smiled recognizing the voice.

The stranger hovered over Alysia, its head still covered by a hood. The stranger lay itself next to Alysia, slowly running its fingers through her hair.

“How did you find me?” Alysia asked, her eyes drifting to the stranger.

“I promised you, didn’t I? That I’d find you at the Conclave,” the stranger said as it cupped Alysia’s cheeks.

“Where are we?”

“The Hinterlands. You needed to see the Revered Mother didn’t you?”

  
“How did you know?” Alysia asked, her body jerking up.

“We have mutual friends. Come, I promised a certain dwarf that I'd get you home before supper,” the stranger said while trying to stand on its feet.

Alysia nodded and smiled at the stranger.

\----------

Everyone jerked their faces up when Cassandra slammed her fist on to the wooden table in the war room. Her face was scrunched up into a look of anger, her eyes darted to the map and its crossed out bits.

“It’s been two days. Two days and still nothing! She couldn’t have disappeared,” Cassandra yelled across the room.

Varric shifted uncomfortably at the Seeker’s anger. These past two days had been a nightmare for him; he was back to being interrogated by the Seeker because of Cullen. He tried to reason with the Commander and the Seeker; he told them that he knew nothing of the Herald’s disappearance. Solas came to Varric’s defense when Cassandra’s interrogation did not relent, Varric was thankful for what he did or else he would still be cooped up in a room with guards watching him.

Leliana had been busy since Alysia’s disappearance; she had tried to find her using her spy network but no new came of Alysia or anyone resembling her nearby. Cullen had been cooped up in his room ever since, trying to keep busy by finishing the over-piling reports Josephine had given him—he wondered if there were instances of people being smothered to death by paperwork. Shuddering slightly at the thought.

Someone knocked his door and announced that Seeker Cassandra was holding a meeting in the war room. Cullen replied that he would be there soon, as soon as he heard the messenger shuffle away, he got up from his chair and walked over to his washbasin. He looked at his face in the mirror and noticed the dark circles around his eyes; he splashed his face with the cool water, letting it wake him up.

_She’s given me more headaches than Knight-Commander Meredith ever did._

Once he was ready, he made his way into the Chantry, he saw Josephine waving at him—how can she be so lively even in a crisis, Cullen wondered. Cullen bowed at her and made his way into the war room with her.

“How have you been feeling?” Josephine asked, a look of worry in her face.

“Better than Cassandra,” Cullen joked.

“You better not let her hear that,” Josephine replied while grinning.

Cassandra and Leliana were in mid-conversation when Josephine and Cullen walked into the room. Varric and Solas stood on the other end of the table, both of them clearly not wanting to be here.

Cassandra looked up at all of them, her eyes now gleaming for unknown reasons.

“We think we might have found the Herald,” she announced to the room, in which they all sighed thankfully in return.

“Where did you find her,” Cullen asked, his expression grave.

“Some of my spies say that they saw her in the Hinterlands,” Leliana spoke as she placed her report down. She moved one of the little markers off the war table map and placed it on the far corner of the Hinterlands.

“You’re sure?” Solas asked while eyeing the marker.

“Not entirely. It could be someone else but at least we have a lead now,” Leliana spoke.

“How soon can we leave?” Varric asked, to which Cassandra grunted.

“Seeker, we can play this game all day long but my concern is the Herald. You have no reason to doubt me,” Varric said while frowning.

“It is true Lady Seeker, I was wrong to have judged him,” Cullen admitted.

Cassandra turned her gaze to the map and chewed on her lower lip.

“Mid-day. We leave tomorrow at mid-day. Be prepared.”

The entire room nodded at her.

\----------

She perched her body over the steep hill, her body half-hidden by a bush. She could feel her sweat clinging her armor to her skin, her hair was now loosely braided; little stray strands clung to her face. Alysia wiped the sweat off her face and slid down the hill deftly and landed next to the stranger who was on its horse.

“Anything?” the stranger asked.

“A few banner men, Templars and mages about, but nothing besides that,” Alysia replied while climbing on to the stranger’s horse.

“We steer clear of the main roads until we reach the Crossroads,” the stranger said while kicking its horse to pick up more speed.

Alysia clung on to the stranger’s cloak as the horse galloped and nodded.

Shortly after bypassing most unsafe routes surrounded by either mages or Templars, Alysia and the stranger finally reached the Crossroads, which was now filled with refugees and mostly injured people. Alysia got off the horse and greeted a refugee who just nodded silently, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for the people there, they looked haggard and in need of warm food and clothes.

“The Revered Mother should be up there,” the stranger said, pointing up at a hill.

“Stay here. I don’t want to have to explain to her why you’re here with me instead of the Inquisition,” Alysia said while quickly walking towards the hill.

The stranger nodded while handing its mount some food, to which it neighed in appreciation.

Alysia’s pace slowered when she saw the amount of injured people lying on the ground, there were people moaning in pain, some limbless, some blood soaked bodies lay motionless on the ground. Alysia walked over to one of them, she was a young elf with blonde hair, whose ears were both slit. Alysia knelt beside the dead elf and pushed her blood soaked hair away from her face, she was beautiful, Alysia thought. The elf had a necklace around her neck; Alysia wondered what life she must have had, all of her memories and everything that made her who she was, was gone with her death. She was an empty shell now.

“We did all we could,” a voice spoke from behind her. “Did you know her?”

Alysia got up from her knees and faced the person behind her. “No, Revered Mother. I did not.” Alysia said while smiling weakly. “But, I wish I could have known all of them,” she said while glancing at the pile of dead bodies.

“It’s no use dwelling on the dead, my child. They are probably happy by the Maker’s side,” the Revered Mother said.

“Thank you Mother Giselle. For all that you have done.”

Mother Giselle stared at Alysia for a long time and then spoke, “Do I know you?” she asked.

“I am Alysia Trevelyan, youngest of the Trevelyan’s of the Free Marches. I’m here on behalf of the Inquisition,” Alysia said while bowing.

Mother Giselle eyes grew wide, she opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it again; she walked closer to Alysia and clasped her hands over Alysia’s. “I prayed to the Maker that you would come soon.”

“And here I am. What can I do for you, Mother Giselle?”

“I know of the Chantry’s denouncement and I am familiar of those who are behind it. Some of them are important people who want to increase their chances of being the next Divine. Some are simply terrified, slowly losing their way to this needless war.”

Alysia frowned at the Mother’s words and tried to make sense of it, “But don’t you stand with the rest of the Chantry?”

“With no divine most of us are left to our own fate. I won’t lie, some people are terrified of you—however, my conscience tells me to trust you. Go to the remaining clerics; convince them that you are no demon to be feared. They've heard only frightful tales of you. Give them something else to believe.”

“You want me to appeal to them?”

“If I thought you were incapable I would not have suggested it.”

“Will they listen?”

“You needn’t convince them, you just need them to doubt themselves. With their unity broken by doubt, it should buy you some time to change their perception of you.”

Mother Giselle stared at the people below the hill, her weary eyes filled with resolve. Alysia looked at the Mother, she clearly cared for the Maker’s children but above all she believed that Alysia could be the savior that Thedas needed.

“Thank you, for all that you’re doing. I know it must be difficult to go against the Chantry’s wishes,” Alysia said while smiling at Mother Giselle.

Mother Giselle’s face warmed at Alysia’s words.

“I honestly don’t know if you’ve been touched by fate but I hope. Hope is what the people need now. They will answer to your rallying call; you could build the Inquisition into a force that could deliver us or destroy us.” Mother Giselle turned to Alysia, her face now filled with determination. “I will go to Haven and provide some names to Sister Leliana to help your cause. It won’t be much, but I will do all I can.”

Alysia nodded at Mother Giselle. “I will return to Haven and notify the rest. Maker watch over you,” Alysia said while waving at Mother Giselle, who bowed in response.

Alysia pondered at Mother Giselle’s words, and wondered if she could truly give people the hope that they needed. She was no Divine nor did she believe herself to be sent by Andraste, but could she really save a land ravaged by war. The only thing she was certain of was that having Mother Giselle on her side, the Inquisition’s side, would no doubt benefit them and their cause.

“Good news I presume?” the stranger asked, while looking at Alysia who was deep in thought.

“For now. Where to now?” Alysia asked while pulling on the horse’s reigns.

“Haven. I promised a certain dwarf that you’d be home safe in time for dinner,” the stranger replied while getting on the horse.

\----------

Cullen paced in his cabin, his body restless. No amount of lyrium could help him fall asleep, it wasn’t the demons in his head that kept him awake, it was the possibility that Alysia was safe out there, somewhere.

_How could she have run off to the Hinterlands without telling anyone?_

He awoke just before dawn when he heard Cassandra busy preparing to leave to the Hinterlands; she was taking Varric and Solas with her to venture in to the Hinterlands to find Alysia.

He shut his eyes briefly and silently hoped that they would find her. The Inquisition needed her, he agreed to himself. Without her, the people’s faith of salvation in a world ravaged by war would vanish. To him she seemed like a spoilt noblewoman with a smart-mouth, she never truly did anything extreme to warrant his dislike for her besides get on his nerves every single time she spoke. He did not know if she was truly sent by Andraste herself, but he knew that the people of Haven placed their faith in her.

Her existence mattered to the people who believed in her.

\----------

Cassandra looked over at the map of the Hinterlands again, this time with Varric and Solas beside her. She explained to them on where they would go, she said that they should speak to Corporal Vale at the Crossroads about the Herald’s whereabouts, according to Leliana, he was the one who saw her.

“So what if we don’t find her?” Varric asked while strapping Bianca on to his back.

“Then we search everywhere else until she is found,” Cassandra said sharply.

“What if the Herald refuses to be found?” Solas asked blankly.

Cassandra looked at him directly and frowned. She did not know of an alternative option if they could not find the Herald. She looked at Harrit who was busy at work, and at Cullen’s recruits who were diligently training—they were oblivious to the fact that their Herald was missing. What would happen if they found out, she wondered while packing food into her pouch.

“Knock it off, Chuckles. The Seeker has enough on her plate as it is,” Varric said, turning to Solas, who ignored him. Solas seemed more distant than he used to be, he barely spoke and spent most of his time sleeping. Varric wondered why such a tiny person needed that much sleep, what makes him so tired all the time. Little did Varric know Solas was searching for Alysia too, in his own way.

Solas looked up to the gates of Haven when he heard something galloping towards them. Murmurs escapes the guards mouths when they saw a figure on a horse racing towards the gate, they peered over the watchtowers trying to determine who the hooded figure was. The figure grew closer and closer and stopped right in front of the gates of Haven and by that time half of Haven’s people’s attention were on the mysterious figure.

Seeker Pantaghast unsheathed her sword and raised it at the figure. “Show yourself,” she demanded at the figure, whose horse stepped backwards slightly at her piercing voice. The figure gripped on the mount’s reigns tighter and proceeded into the gates, ignoring Cassandra entirely. The stranger got off its mount barely a few feet away from Cassandra who was now fuming with anger; its boots dug into the snow making a crunching sound. It turned its gaze towards the Seeker, whose sword was still directed towards the stranger.

The figure caught a glimpse of a shadow running towards the spectacle—Cullen stopped near Varric who narrowed his eyes at the figure, shortly after his arrival, Leliana and Josephine came rushing down from the Chantry, pausing themselves to comprehend the situation that was unfolding before them—silence fell over the entire village who were now gawking at the spectacle.

The stranger strode towards Cassandra, shuffling its feet against the snow, it stopped right in front of the tip of Cassandra’s blade, unwavering Cassandra frowned at the figure.

“You would do well to unveil yourself,” Cassandra growled, which prompted Cullen and his recruits to draw their blades at the stranger who remained undaunted by their action.

“You would do well to drop your blades,” the stranger spoke monotonously. To which Cassandra gripped her blade tighter and gritted her teeth at the stranger.

“One wrong move Seeker, and your life is mine,” the stranger whispered to Cassandra while briefly flashing her its blade that it hid on its waistband.

Cassandra raised her eyebrow and nodded silently; she raised her right arm as if to tell everyone that the stranger meant no harm, she inched her feet backwards and lowered her sword.

“Your turn,” Cassandra replied darkly.

The figure nodded and turned its back towards Cassandra and waved its hands slightly at Haven’s gate, signalling; everyone’s gaze followed the stranger’s and wondered what it was looking at. Whispers started escaping everyone’s lips when they saw another figure dressed entire in black emerging from the distant and walking towards Haven’s gates. Its hair blew gently against the wind, face slightly pale but its eyes were piercing blue, it clung onto the coat it was wearing, pacing forward slowly—it sent shivers down everyone’s spine. She looked like winter.

Cassandra dropped her sword in unison with the entire village’s gasp. They all realized who it was; it was the Herald walking closer to them. Alysia passed through Haven’s gate, wary of everyone’s gaze that fell upon her. She stopped directly in front of Cassandra, whose face now was the definition of shock. Alysia held her gaze at Cullen whose chest was heaving heavily with anger, her lips trembled when she saw everyone staring at her with confusion.

Cassandra finally interrupted the silence. “Where in Maker’s name have you been?” she hissed.

Alysia hung her head low, fingers slowly clenching into a ball. She remained silent at the Seeker’s harsh face.

“Well? Speak,” Cassandra spoke now through gritted teeth.

“What are you? Her mother?” the stranger asked, amusement in its voice.

“Don’t you dare–”, before Cassandra could finish her sentence Varric interjected her by coughing loudly.

“Stay out of this, dwarf,” Cassandra hissed, her voice raised.

“I didn't _say_ anything!” he exclaimed to which several chuckles escaped people’s mouths.

Cassandra groaned inwardly at Varric, but her gaze never left Alysia’s and the stranger’s.

“So you know this person?” Leliana spoke now, walking closer towards them.

“Yes.” Alysia answered, looking up at the spymaster.

“Will you tell us who they are?”

Alysia looked at the stranger who shrugged under its hood. She held the Spymaster’s gaze, and briefly turned to Cullen whose hand was still on the hilt of his sword and returned her gaze to Leliana.

“Meet me in the war room.”


	8. Heavy Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Alysia is cranky and everyone gets recruited off screen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♫ Heavy Feet by Local Natives

The entire room grew restless, and it was not from waiting for Alysia, rather it was from the curiosity that plagued their minds ever since she returned with a mysterious figure. Varric on the other hand enjoyed watching Cullen and Cassandra on the brink of losing their minds at her; she clearly knew how to keep them on their toes, he noted.

Cassandra tapped her fingers impatiently on the wooden table; adjusting her hair occaisionaly to buy the time. She eyed Varric who was staring at her from across the room, at made a muffled disgusted sound when he winked at her.

“She’s wasting our time,” Cullen finally spoke into the silent room.

“Patience, Commander,” Leliana replied while staring off into the distance, as was Josephine who absently drew circles on the back of her hand.

Cullen scoffed at the Spymaster’s remark and rubbed the back of his neck, a habit that he could not kick. He picked it up when he was in Templar training for Maker knows what reason.

Solas lay casually against the brick wall, staring at the map on the table. His eyes drifted to the location where he first met Alysia, the location meant little to him but the abnormal circumstances that surrounded Alysia’s sole survival constantly bothered him. His pointed ears perked up when he heard the door creak open.

Everyone’s eyes fell upon the two figures who stood at the door, breaths held, expectantly waiting for Alysia to tell them truth; Alysia and the stranger paced slowly into the room. Silence slowly crept in as everyone stood around anxiously, hoping for one or the other to say something first. Noting that everyone in the room was shifting awkwardly, Alysia spoke first.

“Firstly, I would like to apologize. To all of you,” she said as she looked at everyone in the room briefly. “I know my sudden… absence was irresponsible and I take full responsibility for everything.”

Everyone shared glances amongst each other, and waited for her to continue.

“Secondly, I have spoken to Mother Giselle and we will be seeing more of her in Haven sometime tomorrow. She has agreed to aid the Inquisition in whatever we may need,” she spoke now turning to Leliana who nodded in agreement.

Before Alysia could continue, Cassandra interjected her. “You brought a stranger to attend the Inquisition’s matters?” she scoffed, while folding her arms.

Alysia groaned to the room, “If you would let me finish, Seeker,” she muttered while turning to the stranger who now spoke on Alysia’s behalf.

“Thirdly, I am no stranger,” it said, addressing the room. “I serve the Inquisition as much as all of you do, especially where Alysia is concerned,” it continued, removing its hood, exposing its indentity entirely.

Everyone gasped in unison; their eyes grew wide at the uncanny resemblance the stranger shared with Alysia.

“Oh Maker, no,” Cullen groaned to himself.

Its hair was midlength, blonde and fell in sleek curls, eyes emerald green like the pendant it wore around its neck. It looked around five years older than Alysia was, sharing the same olive complexion as Alysia.

“Meet Aurelia Trevelyan, my sister,” said Alysia and she tried to muffle her laughter and everyone’s face.

“Maker. We have _two_ of them,” Cassandra said while she did a double take at Alysia then back at Aurelia, who were both grinning.

Josephine almost lost her head, muttering at how rude it was to have yet another noble in Haven and not receiving them formally— _she and her shemlen customs_ ,  
Solas shook his head slowly at the thought. They were all the same to him, nobles, peasants, Gods—it mattered very little to him what their title meant.

Varric simply just smiled at Aurelia when no one was looking at him, who batted her eyes at him in mock horror. Cullen held his head his in his hands, probably in horror at how another noble self-invited themselves into the Inquisition. _He truly did dislike them_ , Alysia mused. She could not put her finger on why her advisors were so flabbergasted at Aurelia’s arrival, saved for Leliana, who was the only person in the room who actually graciously greeted Aurelia, with words at least.

“If I knew my presence here would be welcomed, I would have left home sooner,” Aurelia joked while winking at Cullen who reeled at her action.

Alysia groaned internally at her sister, barely two minutes into exposing her identity, she was already flirting with Varric and the Commander.

“Okay, now that this is done and over with. Can we please continue our daily meeting?” said Alysia, while waving her hand to the room in an attempt to get their attention.

Solas merely chuckled at her failed attempt when everyone was still buzzing about Aurelia.

“Guys!” she exclaimed, slamming both her hands on the table. “Meeting. Now.”

Cassandra held her head with the palm of her right hand, as if it were about to fall off.

“Let’s,” she finally spoke with a hint of ease in her voice.

“So, you spoke to the Revered Mother. What can she offer to help us?” Josephine asked, businesslike; her composure completely different from her previous stuttering self. If Alysia could give the lady Ambassador any credit, it would have to be for her aptitude for making haste on the matters involving the Inquisition.

“She said that she would arrive tomorrow with names to help our cause,” Alysia replied.

“That’s promising,” Leliana spoke while she jotted down notes on her paper.

“And what of Dennet? Have you spoken to him?” asked Cullen.

“Not yet, I’m afraid. I will return to the Hinterlands once the Revered Mother is here,” said Alysia while staring at Cullen squarely.

“There is one other matter, Herald. A few months ago, the Grey Wardens in Frereldan have vanished. I sent word for those in Orlais but it turns out that they have also disappeared. Usually I would not consider the idea that they could have been behind all of this but, the timing is curious.”

“That does sound odd,” Alysia said, deep in thought.

“The others have disregarded my suspicion,” said Leliana, turning to the other advisors, “But I cannot ignore it. Two days ago my agents have heard news of a warden by the name of Blackwall, living in the Hinterlands. If you have the opportunity please seek him out, perhaps he can put my mind at ease.”

“And if he can’t?” Aurelia interjected

“Then there could be more going on than we thought.”

\----------

Alysia’s ears perked up at the sound of people arguing near the tree she was having her breakfast under with Aurelia, she jerked her head up to observe the commotion. A huge crowd gathered right in front of the Chantry, arguing amongst each other, saved for a few people who shuffled around the crowd minding their own business and not wanting to get involved in an argument between Templars and mages.

A Templar pushed his way through the left side of the crowd and accused another mage of murdering the Divine, naturally a mage countered by saying that the Templars left her to her own demise. Angered by the mage’s accusation, the rogue Templar turned his hand to the hilt of his sword to unsheathe it. Just as his was about to pull out his sword, Cullen interjected by standing in between the arguing pair.

“Knight-Captain,” the Templar exclaimed, shocked to see a former Templar coming to a mage’s defense.

“Knight-Captain?” Alysia wondered, confused. _Was Cullen a former Templar?_

She sat still under the tree, bread in mouth, and tried to ignore the crowd jeering at each other. She really did not want to interfere in a trivial fight, especially when it involved mages and Templars.

Cullen shot an annoyed look at the Templar who called him his former title, “That is not my title. Not anymore,” he spat. “We are not Templars any longer. We are all part of the Inquisition,” he said, addressing the entire crowd who were now in an uproar.

Before Cullen could continue, a man spoke from the crowd.

“And what does that mean exactly?” a hint of animosity in his voice.

Cullen turned his face to the approaching man, his face contorted into a snarl.

“Back already, Chancellor. Haven’t you done enough?”

Chancellor Roderick smirked at Cullen “I’m curious, Commander. As to how your Inquisition and its Herald will restore order, as you’ve promised,” sarcasm dripping in his voice at the mention of Alysia’s title.

“Of course you are,” Cullen muttered under his breath, annoyed at the Chancellor’s feigned innocence. He noticed the crowd growing larger, all of them gawking at the exchange between the Chancellor and their Commander. He shook his head at their curiosity. “Back to your duties. All of you,” he said, especially to the Chancellor who held a smug look.

She noticed how the both of them were shooting disgusted looks at each other, half-sure that it was going to end up into a brawl. Cullen would win obviously but she could not have the Inquisition’s reputation be smeared over two hot-headed men. She wiped her crumbed hand and walked towards the two men, scowling at the thought of having to be the one to break up their fight. For grown men they were both honestly acting like pre-pubescent boys.

Aurelia waved Alysia on, muffling a giggle growing in her throat.

“So what’s going on?” asked Alysia, rolling her eyes as she spoke.

Cullen turned to Alysia and shot her an accidental dark look, which he apologized silently for by warming his expression at her. “Herald, the mages and Templars are now blaming each other for the Divine’s death. Morale is still low at camp. We can’t have them fight amongst each other. Especially not within the compounds of Haven.”

  
“Which is why we require a proper authority to guide them back to order,” the Chancellor interjected, he curled his lips in rancor when he saw Alysia’s eyes growing dark at him.

“And who do you think would be a better fit for that? You? A random cleric who wasn’t important enough to be at the Conclave,” another spoke, it was Aurelia, sauntering over in the midst of their argument.

Chancellor Roderick scoffed at her remark, “And who may _this_ be?” he asked, annoyed. "Another misfit taken in by the Inquisition?"

“Someone who is clearly more important than you are,” Alysia said, frowning.

He shook his head in displeasure at the three of them, “Centuries of tradition will guide the people out of this mess, the people need the Chantry to lead them, not the Inquisition.”

Alysia slapped her forehead with her hand, “Cullen. Remind me again why we’re letting the Chancellor stay?”

“Because your Templar knows his place,” said the Chancellor, exaggerating on the title.

“He’s no Templar. Not anymore. Now I suggest that you leave Chancellor before you find yourself disposable,”

“Is that a threat, Herald?”

“Probably,” Aurelia said, amusement in her voice.

Chancellor Roderick frowned at the sisters, and walked away, to which Alysia gestured rudely at him when he was no longer looking at them.

Cullen smirked at the defeated man and turned his gaze to Alysia who was now looking up at him, frowning.

“Thank you for coming to my defense,” he whispered to Alysia, apology in his voice.

He truly did act like a child, and he knew better than to push the Chancellor’s buttons. For once he was glad Alysia stepped into the mess he created, but he did not like being on the receiving end of her ire.

“It wasn’t for you,” she whispered to him. “It was for the Inquisition,” she said while turning her back on him and walking away.

_Maker. She’s trying to rile me up, isn’t she?_

“Not bad for a spoilt noble, hey?” Aurelia asked, grinning at him. To which Cullen groaned and walked back into the Chantry, face in his hand; that was not a conversation he ever wanted to delve into.

\----------

Alysia strolled down the footpath leading to Haven’s gates; she spoke to the villagers who approached her. She was slowly getting used to them calling her by her title, but most of all she truly did adore the villagers. Through everything she knew that they held a high regard for her, not because she was a noble but because they truly believed that she saved them. Alysia’s face perked up in mid-conversation with Adan when she saw Rhoswen running while calling out to her. The elf stopped right in front of her, and tried to form words through her pant.

Not catching a word of what Rhoswen said, Alysia blinked rapidly at the elf.

“Mother Giselle. She’s here. In Leliana’s tent.” the elf finally spoke after catching her breath.

Alysia grinned widely, “To the Revered Mother,” exclaimed Alysia while pointing her index finger at Leliana’s tent and running haphazardly through the steps.

“Oh, Herald! Watch your step,” Rhoswen cried out to the already sprinting Alysia.

\----------

“So what of the Revered Mother?” asked Cassandra who was standing next to Leliana in the war room.

“She says that she would like Alysia to address the clerics in Val Royeaux, she’s given me some names,” said Leliana, who propped a stack of papers in the middle of the war room table.

“Having the Herald address the clerics is not a terrible idea,” chimed Josephine who was flipping through the names listed on the papers.

“You must be joking,” exclaimed Cullen who turned to Josephine, scratching his head in displeasure.

“Mother Giselle isn’t wrong. At the moment, the Chantry’s only strength is that they are united in opinion. Take that away from them and they will crumble.”

“And we should ignore the danger to the Herald?” challenged Leliana.

 _Don’t speak about me as if I’m not in the room_ , Alysia thought bitterly to herself.

“Well, let’s ask her,” said Josephine, who was now turning to Alysia expectantly, interrupting her thoughts.

“Me? You’re finally asking my opinion on something? After stringing me along for weeks now, and making me prance around as the Herald of _fucking_ Andraste, you’re now asking me what I think of something that directly involves me?” she bellowed, hands on her hips.

Cullen snorted loudly, where everyone just gaped at the fuming Alysia. It prompted the entire room to stare at him; he tried to muffle his laugh with his gloved hand and pass it off as a cough, but he failed miserably.

“I’m not worried on going to Val Royeaux—”

“Don’t underestimate them, Herald,” interjected Josephine, who was furrowing her brows.

“I will go with the Herald. Out of good faith, Mother Giselle has given us names. We should use them,” said Cassandra, who turned to Alysia and smiled warmly.

Shocked by Cassandra’s sudden regard for her, Alysia gaped at the Seeker who was now staring straight at Leliana, jaws clenched. This is probably the first time that she has ever seen either Hands of the Divine not agree on something.

“What’s the use of these names if the Herald comes out hurt in all of this?” Leliana said, her eyes narrowing at the Seeker.

“What choice do we have, Leliana? We can’t approach anyone to help us seal the Breach. We should use what influence we have to speak to the clerics.”

“She is right, you know? I’ve got nothing to show for, if I don’t put myself out there. I need to at least show them that I am no monster to be feared,” said Alysia, determined to change the Spymaster’s mind of treating her like a precious porcelain doll.

“The Herald is right,” Cullen said calmly. He couldn’t find a reason to disagree with her on this matter. It was true that she did act like a stubborn, hot-headed child at times, but he had no reason to doubt her resolve in wanting to change the Chantry’s perception of her.

Alysia turned her gaze to him and smiled warmly, glad that he was on the same page as her, for once.

“Well then. We leave for Val Royeaux tomorrow, at first light.”

\---------

Alysia and her companions walked through the tall gold plated metallic gates; she gazed at awe at the long hall of statues that greeted each visitor of Val Royeaux, stopping occasionally to read the plaques underneath them. The walls were painted baby blue like the morning sky, music filtered through open windows, and the smell of fresh baked cakes filled the comfortably warm air.

  
_It was truly unlike any other city_ , Alyisa mused. Val Royeaux was more than just its beautiful decorations and the people that spent their life there; it was its own person.

“Over there, Snowflake,” Varric said, pointing at a large crowd gathered near a scaffold.

She couldn’t see much around the crowd other than a few Templars and a Chantry mother addressing the crowd, the crowd cheered in agreement with the Chantry mother when she accused the Inquisition, or rather its self-proclaimed Herald for causing the death of Divine Justinia.

“Not this shit again,” Varric mumbled under his breath, half to Alysia.

Alysia’s stomach dropped when she saw the Chantry mother staring directly at her, menace in her voice as she called upon the Herald of being a false prophet.

“We cannot allow her to rise where our Divine fell,” the Chantry mother said while pointing at Alysia, to which the entire crowd turned to her and yelled abuse.

Alysia felt her temper flaring but held her tongue, afraid that her smart mouth might actually be her undoing in a mob of angry people. She clenched her fists and tried to be diplomatic. For once.

“I did not come here to listen to biased accusations, we, the Inquisition, came here to talk. Let us put our differences aside and talk,” Alysia said, her voice slightly shaking.

“It is true, Mother Hevara” Cassandra chimed in. “The Inquisition only wants to end this madness before it is too late.”

“It is already too late. You murdered the Divine,” Mother Hevara said, frowning at Alysia. “Look, the Templars have returned to us, the Chantry. They will fight for the Divine’s death,” she continued, pointing at a group of Templars who were now approaching the scaffold.

Before the Chantry Mother could continue her speech, a rather burly man in a Templar armor swiped her across the face, causing her to fall face first onto the wooden plates. The crowd jeered at the Templar, who simply ignored them.

“Still yourself, she is beneath us,” the Templar said to his men, while walking down from the scaffold.

“Lord Seeker Lucius?” Cassandra muttered in shock.

“You know him?” Alysia hissed.

Ignoring her, Cassandra ran towards the man who but only disregarded her, and continued walking through the bustling crowd.

Alysia felt bile rising in her throat; not from the fact that he hit a Revered Mother or because he ignored Cassandra but merely because she did not like him one bit. Enraged, she cut across the crowd, and forced her way through the mob of Templars. As she was about to grab the man by his hair, he turned around to face the Herald, who was now snarling at her in anger.

He gripped Alysia by the collar, lifting her slightly off the ground and pointed his index finger at her.

“You my child are a false prophet, a puppet of the Inquisition.”

Alysia held her hand up to her companions, informing them not to retaliate. She didn’t struggle under his grip, rather she treated it as her indirect welcome to knee him in the jaw. Seeker Lucious gripped his lower jaw in pain, and wiped the blood of his bottom lip and snarled at Alysia in displeasure.

“You have no power here nor can you appeal to the Chantry. The only respect you can demand is mine,” he yelled out to her.

“You are nothing but a pawn in this entire game. What good can the Templars do?” she said, anger rising. “If you came here to make heretic speeches, what good are you?” she blurted out, knowing that her words had not an ounce of filter in them.

Lord Seeker Lucius merely curled his lips at her remark, “I came here see the Chantry crumble. Val Royeaux does not deserve the Templars,” Seeker Lucius said, enmity in his words.

“We will stand alone in this fight against the void. We march, we leave those who don’t deserve us,” he said while walking away from the crowd. Some of his fellow Templars agreed with him and continued their march out of the capital, the others stared in disbelief only to march along with their peers, feeling defeated.

Alysia stood there, rooted to her spot as she saw them walk through the gates. She had never been so angry in her entire life, she could literally kill the man if he ever so appeared in front of her again.

“Charming isn’t he?” Varric stated as soon as the Templars left.

“He has clearly lost his mind,” Cassandra said, infuriated.

“How are we going to ask the Templars for help?” Alysia asked, while scrunching up the left side of her hair in annoyance.

“I would not write them off so quickly, Herald. There must be people in the order who will stand with us,” Solas said. Everyone turned to him, confused at his sudden enthusiasm with shemlen politics.

“For now, we should report back to Haven,” Cassandra said, ushering Alysia out of the bazaar.

\--------

_Nightingale,_

_I hate this city so much; I thought the ribbons in the bazaar were pretty and the music too? But fuck the pretty things and the people._  
_Why are they so angry? Especially the armored men. Fuck them._  
_I also encountered a “non-elfy elf”—her words, by the name of Sera. Solas hates her. We’re keeping her. No arguments._  
_Plus, I got an invitation from Madame de Fer. She wants to join the Inquisition. You’ll love her and her shoes._  
_Heading off the Hinterlands now._

 _Regards,_  
_Frowny (According to Varric). If anyone calls me that, I will gut them in their sleep._

\----------

_Nightingale,_

_I found the horse expert, expect some mounts soon._  
_Also, I found the broody Warden you spoke of. I think he likes me._ _Sera and him are becoming fast friends. We're keeping him right? Yes? Yes_ _._

_Be back soon._

_Sincerely,_  
_Tickles (Don’t ask)_

\---------

_Nightingale,_

_So change of plans. Am at the Storm Coast, fitting name because it rains every fucking day. My boots are soggy, and my hair smells of sea air, gross._  
_Also, I accidentally became the leader of the Blades of Hessarian. Cassandra is not pleased._  
_Plus, I found another friend. He has a smart mouth and let's me sit on his shoulders, cue Commander Gloomy Tightpants groaning in the background._

 _With love,_  
_Extremely wet (not even the good kind)_

_P/S: Aurelia stop trying to intercept my letters. I am on to you._

\----------

Alysia dragged her sore feet across the snowy ground, her eyes too exhausted to focus on anything besides making her way back to her cabin. She was half sure that if she closed her eyes for a mere second, she would fall asleep; she mentally recalled the things she had been through for the past several weeks. After the dreadful events at Val Royeaux, she found herself being led further and further away from Haven. She almost got hit by an arrow, by the Friends of Red Jenny, which in turn led her to an odd elf called Sera who was simply adorable in every way but still odd. She received an invitation from one of Lady Vivienne’s men who insisted that she be allowed to join the Inquisition’s cause.

She finally met Master Dennet, who was so pleased with had she done with the wolves and the building of watchtowers, that he personally invited himself to care for the Inquisition’s mounts. Amongst the bear hunting and elven artifact finding for Solas, she found Blackwall, who was a strapping Warden with an overgrown beard. Then she received word from a person called Krem who insisted that the leader of the Chargers needed to see her; so off she went to the Storm Coast to meet this Iron Bull who turned out to be every bit that she expected. In between all of the travelling, she found time to fill Threnn’s requisitions with the help of lovely scout Harding who Sera couldn’t help but lust over. Poor Sera. So, from being called a fake prophet to now having five new recruits, she couldn’t really complain.

She slipped out from the heavy armor as soon as she walked into her cabin, thanking the Maker how light her body felt when her she fell against the soft, warm sheets. She was certain that this would be the only proper sleep that she would get in a while, she still had to deal with the mages and the Templars, both of whom she disliked for obvious reasons, but right now she couldn’t give a crap of which fractions she would end up in. Sleep was all she wanted and the next order of business would be alcohol. Everything in between could wait until she was finally rid of her exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading so far :)


	9. Better in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra starts rumours and a decision has been made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight fluff?
> 
> ♫ Better in the Dark by Say Lou Lou

He heard her, in fact everyone did. She padded heavily against the gravel, laughter filling the cold morning air where most were too grumpy to even lift an eyelid, her voice slightly sleepy as she greeted the new mounts, fingers wrapping gently around their long tresses. She was at ease, for once.

“Commander,” she mouthed to him in greeting when she saw him pushing the war room door slowly open, he greeted her back with a silent nod and ushered her into the room; Cassandra and Leliana were already deep in conversation, and Josephine was writing furiously on a piece of paper, neither noticing Alysia or the Commander’s presence.

Alysia looked up at the Commander cheekily, smirking at an idea forming in her head..

“Ladies and gentleman, _mommy_ is home,” she announced loudly to the room, startling them. For someone who had been travelling for the past few weeks, she was oddly energetic, Cullen smiled at the thought. Her advisors stared at her in disbelief, Alysia knew that it was largely from her use of words, Josephine crinkled her nose heavily at the word ‘mommy’, Leliana just hid her half-smile with the back of her hand, and Cassandra just grumbled.

Cullen watched her, amused. She was the complete polar opposite of her sister Aurelia; undignified, uncouth, and entirely lacking the qualities of being the Herald of Andraste, but maybe that’s why she the people loved her, because she was imperfectly perfect. If anything, Alysia knew how to lift morale and make people feel at ease around her. Even Leliana who had forgone her lighthearted self ever since the end of the Fifth Blight, had become more carefree, and not to mention Cassandra seemed to respect Alysia even more now, despite their differences.

“So did anyone miss me?” Alysia asked, grinning to the room.

“It’s good to have you back, Herald. Cassandra tells me your wonderful tales of becoming a leader of a rebel group,” Leliana said, lifting her eyes mischievously from the report.

“Oh! I must listen to these wonderful tales about a lone hero taking over a rebel group. Those are my favorite kind of stories,” Alysia teased back, eyebrows lifted in mock curiosity. Before anyone else could speak, Josephine’s voice rang loudly over them.

“Is true that you single-handedly took over the entire Blades of Hessarian using the Iron Bull—strange name, well his horns, did you use his horns as a catapult?” Josephine continued, her thick Antivan accent filled with eagerness.

Alysia lifted her arms to protest, confused as to how such a ridiculous story came to be. Then she saw Cassandra staring at her, eyebrows lifted jeeringly.

_Of course it was her._

“Was it true that you tied the former leader to a tree and fed him to a giant near the coast?” Josephine asked, her eyes growing wide with anticipation. To which Alysia shot Cassandra a dark look, who was chortling.

Alysia looked back the impatient Ambassador who was now staring at her in expectation, “Yes. Everything you heard is quite true. You need to pass on these stories to my followers. Let them know that the Herald is not one to be fucked with, or I will unleash my catapulting skills upon them and make them cream their pants,” Alysia said smugly.

Leliana cleared her throat loudly, calling attention to all of them to start the meeting. “I’m sure we could talk about the Herald’s misadventures over ale later, but for now there are some important matters that we need to attend to.”

Not long after, everyone in the war room erupted into a full-blown argument. Cullen still couldn’t agree with any of them, he was still persistent about getting the Templars. Cassandra and Leliana still united in opinion believing that the mages were the best option in sealing the Breach; Josephine tried to be the neutral party in all of this, offering her opinion when necessary. Alysia stood silent near the corner of the table; she nipped the tip of her thumb while staring at the map on the table, deep in thought.

“We head to Redcliffe,” she said, startling everyone.

“So you’re picking the mages?” Cullen protested, fuming with anger.

“No, I’m not. I’m just weighing each option. Look, before we left Val Royeaux, Grand Enchanter Fiona approached us, asking for an alliance. She said that the mages would be the better option in helping us.”

“It could be a trap for all we know,” Cullen replied gravely, he glowered at Alysia whose cheeks were slowly growing red with anger.

“The Templars ignored us Commander, Lord Seeker Lucius wants nothing to do with the Inquisition. Why won’t you listen to reason?” Cassandra now spoke on behalf of Alysia who scowling.

“There must be another way,” Cullen pressed on, hoping for his peers and the Herald to see reason.

“Cullen. Stop.” Alysia hissed at him through gritted teeth, dropping his title entirely in front of everyone.

Leliana, Josephine and Cassandra exchanged looks amongst each other, all of them knowing that the Commander and Alysia might actually clobber each other to death if their argument continued.

“Now, now. How about we reconvene at another time when we’ve all properly thought about the matter,” Josephine said to the room, mostly to Alysia and Cullen who were glowering at each other from across the table. Cassandra placed her hand on the small of Alysia’s back and slowly ushered her out of the room, Alysia hesitantly removed her gaze from the Commander whose gaze did not relent either. Defeated she walked out of the room, slamming the door in response.

“Maker,” Cullen muttered while propping his hand over his forehead.

“I’ve never seen you get so riled up over something, Cullen.” Leliana spoke when Josephine flounced out of the room.

“She’s just impossible to work with.”

Leliana smiled softly at his remark, “That’s rich coming from you. Cullen, she’s trying. That’s more than I can say for you,” Leliana said as she briskly walked out of the room, briefly eyeing the Commander warmly as she closed the door behind her.

Cullen scratched the bottom of his chin absently, pondering over Leliana’s words. He couldn’t really put his finger on why he couldn’t bring himself to trust the Herald that everyone seemed to love. What was it about her that made him so apprehensive.

\----------

“Bad day?” Sera asked when Alysia slumped heavily on a chair in the tavern. Her head hung sideways, eyes closed; she placed her index finger on her temple and massaged it slowly. The elf crept closer and settled herself on to the chair next to Alysia, gently resting her chin on her hand, gazing intently at the Herald who was lost deep in thought.

It wasn’t that she had a bad day, it was more of the fact that her advisors could not be united in a single thing, the only person who seemed to be satisfied with any outcome was Josephine, the Ambassador’s only priority was to enhance the Inquisition’s diplomatic ties with the outsider and make them believe that the Inquisition was a force to be reckoned with. But that was far form the truth. The constant bickering in the war room was slowly wearing her out, what made it even worse was that she had no idea what the correct choice should be. She couldn’t pick the mages because for as long as she could remember her father drilled it into her head that their magic was evil, even though a part of her knew that, that was not entirely the truth. The Templars were not better; they abandoned their faith right in front of everyone and continued to prance around as if they weren’t the cause of the mage uprising.

“Sera, care for a round?” she asked the elf whose ears perked up at the idea of drinking.

“You enjoy Fereldan ale, Herald?” Sera asked in mock horror.

“I suppose. I take whatever I can get,” Alysia said, rolling her eyes in humor.

“Right. So one round of piss ale for the Herald,” the elf announced to the barmaid who nodded swiftly.

Sera turned around to Alysia who was resting her head on the cool wooden table, her eyes still shut in thought.

“So, when do you reckon things will get back to normal?”

“Normal?” Alysia asked while removing her head off the table.

“You know, the whole stitching up the hole in the sky bit?”

“Oh that. We can’t do anything until we pick the mages or the Templars.” Alysia said while shrugging.

“Hm, tricky there. Ever though of a coin toss? Bit more easier than bickering it out,” Sera replied with a wolfish grin.

“I suppose that would be the easier option. If only I could do that with everything,” Alysia replied while shaking her head mildly. “Which side are you on, in all of this?” she asked the elf who was sliding the ale the barmaid handed to her over to Alysia.

“Neither.”

“Neither? Most people pick a side.”

“Well most people are stupid. Neither the mages nor the Templars are good or bad. You know what I hear about the mages? Nothing. Until one goes all demon-y. You know what I heard about Templars? Nothing. Until they take maybe-mages.”

“So, if you’re not any side. What do you want out of all this?”

“I don’t know. But first things first, I came here to help you. A little arrows here. Some over there. Stab someone in the cunt. Then people stop being stupid. Slowly, everything will start to make sense again. Then the easy choices will come along. Does that sound good to you?”

“That’s the best proposition anyone has ever given me Sera.” Alysia replied while smirking at the elf who had her face deep in her stein.

\----------

Cullen marched his way through the snowy grounds of Haven, as he was about to turn left to his cabin, he heard a huge commotion coming from the tavern; people were flowing in and out of the tavern in merriment. He couldn’t see or hear much around the crowd of people other than their deafening cheers. Curious, Cullen pushed his way through the crowd to get a better look at what was happening in the tavern; realizing that the Commander was standing behind them, some of the crowd moved away in respect. When Cullen finally drank the scene up, he saw the elf that she brought from Val Royeaux, a large Qunari and a bearded man, the Herald and her sister Aurelia, chugging their steins down. He watched enraptured as Alysia’s ale spilled from the side of her mouth, slipping slowly down her neck and lower. She was the third to slam her stein hard onto the wooden table, to which the crowd cheered in delight.

“The winner is, Sera, closely followed by Ser Blackwall,” a man announced while lifting Sera’s hands into the air. Her face was smug as she stuck her tongue out to the Warden who let out a hearty laugh.

Bull frowned at Alysia who winked at him, “She drinks better than a Qunari!” Aurelia announced to the crowd of ale-drinkers, who hooted in appreciation.

“Another round,” the Qunari yelled out to the barmaid who was scurrying to bring them another five rounds of ale.

“Okay. So, we need to put a wager to end this, before all you pissheads continue to drink yourself to the Maker. The last person to finish their ale has to… steal Broody’s breeches,” Sera announced to the crowd, slurring at each word; Cullen choked on spit in response when heard the elf, who could she possibly mean? Feeling his face growing hot, Cullen turned on his heels and marched back to his room, he pitied the poor sod who was at their mirth.

On his way to his cabin he saw Varric, head deep in reading a book. Realizing that Cullen was approaching him, Varric lifed his face up and smirked at the Commander.

“Off to bed, Curly?”

“Probably,” Cullen replied vacantly, feeling exhaustion taking over him. Tomorrow he had to deal with the inevitable fate of having to square off with Alysia again; it was not something he was looking forward to.

\----------

He awoke when he heard muffled sounds coming from somewhere outside of his room, through weary eyes he saw feet shuffling beneath the dim light from his door; confused he rubbed his groggy face with the back of his hands. He padded softly against the wooden floors, head still dazed from his slumber. He pushed his door open slightly and peered through it, all he could see was the dark cold air and silence filling it. Shivering, he closed his door and walked back to bed, he buried his face into the soft pillow, and groaned in happiness.

Just as his weary body was about to drift back to sleep, his mind was jolted by something falling on the floorboards, this time Cullen perked up from his bed, knowing that the sound was definitely coming from inside his room. His heart pounded as fast as his breathing. With barely any light to illuminate the further end of his room, saved for the right side of his bed, he found it difficult to assess the situation in his dark room. He heard a soft thud coming from the left side of his bed. Cullen quickly jumped out of bed and tried to catch whatever it was that was in his room—worse case scenario it could be a Fennec that snuck through the crack in his window, he thought.

How wrong he was when he felt his fingers grip something soft, and entirely not a Fennec. Confused he pulled on its limb roughly. The creature in his arm gasped in pain and scurried out of his grip, scratching Cullen’s face in its process of escaping. Cullen dashed across the room and blocked the creature from escaping through its room door, the creature’s feet stopped briefly in front of Cullen and tried to slide its way through the burly man. Cullen extended his arm out before it could escape and gripped tightly onto whatever it was that he had and pushed it roughly onto his bed. For a minute the only sound in his room was the heavy breathing of him and the creature. Cullen felt the hint of something sweet and bitter from the creature’s skin, he felt its skin briefly touch his chest, muffled gasps escaping its lips.

“Gerroff me,” the creature whisper through heavy breathing.

Perplexed, Cullen reached for the tiny candelabra on his bedside table. He carefully hovered it over his bed, letting its light illuminate whatever it was his lower body was pressed upon.

He saw her spread across his bed, her body heaving heavily, her limbs entwined with his. Her face flushed red with sweat that was slowly dripping downwards from her neck. His body burned wherever her skin touched his, face slowly growing hot with unrecognizable desire. Her breath hitched when she felt Cullen’s muscled body hovering over hers, his sweat dripped down onto her collarbone, making her shiver.

“Cullen,” she whispered through her heavy breathing. “Get off me.”

Awareness slowly sinking deep into his bones, Cullen jumped backwards in surprise and covered his mouth with his hand.

“Herald. I am so sorry,” he said aloud, words fumbling.

Alysia lifted her body off his bed, her eyes still shut. A hint of a smile appeared on her lips.

“All is forgiven, Commander” she said, slowly revealing a piece of cloth when she opened her left palm, she dropped it on to the floor and peeked at him through her thick lashes.

Cullen felt his face growing hot; he recognized what she held in her hand.

“Herald,” he said sternly.

“Yes, Commander?” she replied, voice husky.

The golden honey in his eyes vanished, now painted with something dark.

“So I’m… Broody?”

She laughed at him and moved closer to the half-dressed Commander. Alysia couldn’t help but drink the sight of him up, his chiseled body, the way his muscles moved when he was breathing, and his jawline that slowly shifted as he smirked at her, his scar moving with the smile. That stupid smirk.

Her feet stopped moving when she felt herself being too close to him, she could feel his breath fall on her and every time she tried to breathe, she could smell him, the sweet smell of elderflower and oak moss, and a hint of leather.

“…What makes you think that?” she whispered, her body arching closer to the Commander.

Before Cullen could reply, Alysia quickly sprinted across the room and pushed his room door wide open, leaving the half-dressed man gaping at her rougish behaviour. He quickly turned around and all he could see was her silvery-white hair slowly disappearing into the din.

_She’s definitely trying to kill me._

\----------

The door burst upon, a slightly hungover Herald prodded into the room, papers in hand, and eyes full of resolve. She briefly greeted her advisors, eyes glancing quickly over Cullen who had a lopsided smile and a fresh new scar on the side of his face. Her doing, she recalled.

Alysia placed the papers quickly over the table for all of her advisors to read, it was a pros and cons list of which side she should pick; she placed her index finger in the air, as if to explain herself.

“Right, I have made my decision. So before you start arguing, please hear me out okay?”

Her advisors nodded and their expressions impassive. “Right, I know that you want me to pick the Templars, Cullen. But I am going to go with the mages,” she said while eyeing Cullen briefly who curled his lips. She took in a quick breath and continued.

“I have my reasons for picking the mages, besides the obvious list that I wrote down. I took whatever Seeker Lucius said and did, especially to Mother Hevara as an insult, not only upon Cassandra and I but also to the entire Inquisition. I cannot and will not work with an order than so readily disowned their faith and follows an ireful Seeker so blindly. I know that not everyone in the order are like that, believe me, but so much harm has already come from the Templars, especially with the mage rebellion. I cannot bring myself to support them, not with everything that is going on,” she finished and paced her breathing, looking up at the Commander who was crestfallen.

“Cullen, don’t take this as a personal insult to you. You are nothing like the people I just spoke of,” she continued, while trying to comfort his downcast face.

The room fell deafeningly quiet; no one wanted to respond to neither Alysia’s choices nor her words. She had made a sound argument on why she picked the Templars; to Cassandra and Leliana’s joy they couldn’t agree with her openly, not with Cullen feeling torn at her words. Noting the aura of the room growing grave, Josephine silently packed Alysia’s reports and prodded out of the room, she mouthed silently at Leliana and Cassandra to follow suit. As soon the advisors left the room, Alysia walked slowly towards the silent Cullen who staring down at his feet, frowning.

She hesitated for a moment then lifted her hands to stroke the side of his arm, Cullen didn’t flinch, he didn’t move, he stayed motionless, staring down at his feet. Defeated, she removed her hand and sighed quietly, as she was about to turn on her heels to leave, she felt a strong, warm hand grasp the wrist of her left hand.

“I’m sorry,” he started, his voice shaking, growing deep with confusion and burden. His eyes still fixed on the floor, refusing to look up at her. Alysia turned back to him and slowly moved her hands to cup his warm face. He let out a gasp at her touch, gently, she coaxed him into looking at her. His head turned slowly to face her, his honey eyes clouded amber with sorrow.

“Herald, I—” before he could continue, Alysia placed her index finger gently on his soft lips.

“You’re not at fault. You are proof that there is still so much goodness in the order, please don’t forget that,” she said, smiling weakly at the Commander who returned her praise with a slow nod. She massaged the side of his face with her thumb, feeling his stubble graze her skin.

“Thank you,” he replied while clasping her marked hand with his, he kissed the arch of her hand, eyebrows easing in understanding. Cullen bowed at her and took his leave.

“Please don’t regret this Alysia,” he said to her before walking out of the room.


	10. They Already Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alysia is smitten and Bull does not approve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double chapter update!
> 
> ♫ They Already Know by Bright Spark Destroyer

Alysia leaned back on her horse and took in the sight before her, the hills were tainted red from the sun that gleamed above it, the village bustled with merchants, some travelling, and some who were settled in the arling. Alysia wiped her sweaty forehead and sighed in relief, she was thankful to have finally made it after the long journey from Haven.

The ride up to Redcliffe wasn’t as bad as she expected it to be; she managed to fight her way through the steep hills in the Hinterlands that had been filled with demons, bandits and worst of all, rifts. The rifts proved to be more difficult than the ones she had dealt with in Haven,she couldn't put her finger on it but they felt strange. to make matters worse her arm burned tremendously each time she sealed a rift, Solas believed that the mark on her hand was growing larger with each rift sealed. By the time she and her companions got off their horses, they all wordlessly agreed that they were too tired to attend any of the Inquisition’s matters; they filed into the busy tavern, desperate for a strong drink to relax their sore muscles. The tavern, aptly named the Gull and Lantern for its sign that depicts a gull and a lantern; was dimly lit and filled with heavy smoke from the pipes that the patrons were smoking. Alysia choked slightly at the smoke, not entirely out of unpleasantness, but largely because it was thickly sweet and somewhat nauseating.

She had picked her companions carefully, opting to bring the people that weren’t entirely afraid of magic or rather more open-minded about the idea of mages joining the Inquisition. She couldn’t bring Vivienne, despite her being a mage because she was insistent that mages should be kept in the circle, and Alysia was sure that she and Fiona would argue insistently, and she could not let that happen if there was an alliance to be made between the Inquisition and the mages. Sera was definitely out of the question, because she would most definitely offend and accuse a mage of blood-magic, Varric was entirely good fun to be with but he opted to stay in Haven for reasons unknown to her and Cassandra was busy helping Leliana and Mother Giselle on Chantry matters. Aurelia said she was far too lady-like to be in the wild, lies, that woman one of the best fighters she had ever seen in her life, she mused to herself.

She settled herself on a vacant table on the far corner of the tavern, Solas followed closely behind her, setting his staff on the corner of the wall behind him. He took a moment to inspect Alysia’s marks while Bull and Blackwall both walked to the bar counter and ordered drinks for everyone. While Solas was examining her left palm, she tore the armor off her right arm, and inspected the dark blood that settled itself around a deep gash, it looked rather ghastly, it oozed with puss and angry looking blisters formed around it, threatening to pop. She gulped as she peeled the torn leather sleeve of her armor that stuck to her gash, feeling it sting intensely at the sudden exposure to open air.

“That bear got you good, Boss,” Bull said, returning with their beverages.

“And whose fault was that?” Alysia asked, cocking her eyebrow. “Remind me to never ask you to play decoy. You’re a horrible decoy Bull. Much to angry to be one,” she said, laughing through the stings.

Solas leaned closer to her and held her arm gently with his hands, with a simple wave of his hand, a blast of cool air fell over skin, easing the burns. Alysia sighed in satisfaction as her skin no longer stung as much as it did, the blisters around her gash subsided immensely. “Solas, this is why I love you,” she said while grinning at him.

“You better not regret that,” he said, eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiled slightly. She truly did love his bashful smile, he was always so well-guarded, and sometimes he may be a little too pessimistic for her taste but she had grown rather fond of having him around, in an out of battle. Sometimes she couldn’t help but stare at the pensive mage secretly, who would sit in a corner by himself, avoiding people in general. It was not that he disliked anyone; he was just rather content with being by himself, she would often catch him staring at her and her companions, amusement in his eyes, when they were bantering or acting foolish. Solas and her rarely agreed on some things but when they did, his eyes would crinkle at the edges and slight hint of mirth would show. His immense knowledge at things known and unknown to her was indispensable, he often gave her a new perspective to look at the world and she found that bit of him to be rather endearing.

“You’re starting to sound like Cullen. Please don’t” she said as she stretched her arms, she felt her muscles slowly relax, causing her to sigh with content. She reached out for her drink and took a long sip, letting its taste fill her tongue. The ale had a rather deep gold hue to it and had a slight taste of dusty malt and sweetness to it. It was pleasantly smooth and easy on her taste buds. She decided right then and there, that the people in Redcliffe really did know how to drink. _If only they stocked this back in Haven_ , she thought to herself. The group drank their ale in silence, content with just relaxing their tired bodies around their companions.

As Alysia was about to walk over to the counter to grab herself another drink, a rather tall man wearing an expensive looking set of grey silk robes with a ridiculous amount of buckles on his armor, stood in front of her. “I’m sorry for interrupting your rather… lively day, but I would like if you could come with me for a second. I have to speak to you urgently,” he whispered to her.

Alysia glanced at the man, curiosity growing. His skin was deeply tanned; hair arranged meticulously on his head, his dark green glowed underneath his hood as he grinned at her. She couldn’t help but gasp slightly at his pearly with teeth and impeccably trimmed facial hair than fit in his perfectly angular face. He was gorgeous, much too gorgeous for her liking, she thought.

“Are you with the rebel mages?” she asked, wondering if Fiona had sent him on her behalf.

“Depends, if you agree to come with me,” he said, his deep voice hushed with a hint of warning in his voice. Alysia studied him for a moment, contemplating if she should follow the beautiful man, who might or might not lead her into a trap. She chewed on her bottom lip and agreed, nodding her slowly at the man who beamed back at her. _He seemed trustworthy enough_ , she thought. But if she were to die from the mistake of trusting him, at least it was at the hands of a beautiful man and not some ghastly looking demon. As she was walking to a dark corner with the man, she mouthed something to Bull who was coincidentally looking at her, he was puzzled—he wasn’t sure if she was leaving on free will or if she was going to ease her muscles, in more ways than one.

He led her silently through a hidden passageway in the tavern, it led them to a underground passage that was dimly lit with candles; his tall figure moved stealthily through the moss filled passage, Alysia trailed behind him cautiously, she prayed to the Maker that Bull understood what she said. She held he breath when she realized that he finally came to a stop near a ladder leading to another door. The man climbed up first and pushed open the small door, as he made it out of the passage, Alysia heard him greet another man.

“Well that turned out much easier than I thought,” the man said, extending his hand to Alysia to help her out of the passageway. Alysia gripped on his warm hand tightly and thanked him when her feet settled onto the concrete ground. He pulled his hood off his head and revealed an incredibly beautiful face. Alysia gaped at the man before him, as his beautiful bronze skin lit up under the Chantry’s dimly lit candles.

“Oh come now, you can stare at me all you want after we’ve finished this mess you’ve found yourself in,” he said, while shaking his head. Alysia noted how his perfectly smooth head of hair bounce wonderfully around his head and he shook. _No one is this beautiful_ , she thought. _Most definitely a trap._

The other man who she had never met before held a similar complexion with the beautiful man, he was too very easy on the eyes, although he looked very ill.

“This is Felix,” the beautiful man said, ushering Felix to her. “He is here to help us thwart his father’s plan to kill you.”

Before she could wrap her head around the man’s word, Bull came bashing through the Chantry door, followed by Blackwall and Solas.

“I will kill you if you touch her,” Bull hissed through his snarl.

“Took you long enough,” Alysia exclaimed while turning to Bull who was frowning at the beautiful man. “You can never trust the pretty ones,” he spat.

“Glad you also think I’m pretty,” the man joked while smirking. “You wouldn’t be the first,” he continued while smiling at Felix. The man turned his attention back to Alysia who had her arms crossed, confused at the scene that was unfolding before her.

“Listen Herald, you are in grave danger. I know that you have no reason to trust us but we had to get you out of there,” Felix said, worry in his eyes.

“Oh bother, someone is out to kill me again,” Alysia joked while rolling her eyes. “And who do I owe my saving to besides Felix?”

“How rude of me. I am Dorian of house Pavus, recently of Minrathous,” he bowed deeply, while narrowing his eyes at Bull who was still glancing at him in caution.

“Tevinters. Be cautious around them,” Blackwall said, hand on the hilt of his sword.

“So why was I in grave danger again?” Alysia asked.

“Because I know of people who want you dead,” Felix and Dorian said unisonly.

“Why?” Solas asked, his eyes narrowing at the both of them.

“My former mentor, Master Alexius is involved in some kind of cult, they are called the Venatori, and they are invested in acquiring you,” Dorian said.

“Who are these Venatori? And what do they want from me?” Alysia asked warily.

“I’m not entirely sure how he—Felix’s father, ended up siding with the Venatori but one thing I am sure of is that he intends to take down the Inquisition. Your presence has caused him great distress and he will try to kill you one way or another,”Dorians face grew grave at the thought.

“He has learnt some form of dark magic, a magic so evil that he will manage to acquire the rebel mages right from under you,” Felix said, his face growing wan.

“What do you mean?”

“Have you not noticed how time seems to pass by oddly around here? For example when you sealed the rifts in the area, did you not notice how different they were? I have cause to believe that Alexius had something to do with that. It seems that he knows how to distort time, he's going to alter the very fabric of time to keep you away from recruiting the mages."

“I’ve never heard of such magic that could alter time,” Alysia said, her face growing concerned.

“And it sounds fascinating if it were true, but most certainly dangerous,” Solas said, narrowing his eyes at the thought.

“The magic that Alexius is using is most definitely unstable and it will unravel the world. He is really trying his hardest to get you killed if distorting time was the only option he could think of,” Dorian said, shaking his head at the thought.

“Perfect. Now I feel bad for not taking the time to thwart his plan,” Alysia said, smirking. She let out a steady breath from her mouth, her mind working at figurine out a plan to not get herself killed. She wasn’t the least bit surprised that there was someone out for her again; her entire time at the Inquisition had been downfall after downfall, why should seeking the mages out to seal the Breach be any different.

Dorian smirked back at her. “You could probably send him a ‘thank you for trying to kill me ’ card once you have foiled his plans. But for now I suggest trying to figure out _why_ he wants you dead.”

Alysia let out a hearty laugh at the mage, startling her companions. She was starting to like this obscenely gorgeous mage, with an extremely sassy mouth to boot.

“So what do we do now, Boss?” Bull asked while gripping his war hammer tightly.

“We scheme of course. I can’t possibly let them harm a gorgeous white haired maiden, such as yourself,” Dorian said as he winked at Alysia who rolled her eyes at his charm.

She giggled at the man, who was ushering her out of the Chantry. She truly liked this man. “Why Dorian, glad you also think I’m gorgeous. You wouldn’t be the first.”

\---------

_Nightingale,_

_So the plan to get the mages went awry. Who would’ve guessed (I’m being sarcastic if you couldn’t tell)._  
_In the process of figuring it out we met a wonderful man from Tevinter._  
_I think I’m smitten._  
_We’re thinking up of a plan to thwart Alexius’ plan in killing me._  
_Will write soon._

_Alysia._

\---------

Once Alysia had prepared going over the plans again with Dorian and Felix, she set out to find Alexius. Bull, and Blackwall couldn’t find themselves to agree with Dorian because they found him to be a tad sketchy, but most of all he seemed too confident in the plan, as if nothing could go wrong. Alysia quickly wrote a missive to Leliana, detailing the plan to the spymaster in case anything went wrong. She wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of waltzing up to the madman with Solas and offer herself gladly to his blade, but she could not find any other alternative. She didn’t have the time to wait for more information to flood in about the Venatori for her to carefully plan her fake surrender, and by the time more information did come in, she was afraid that Alexius would already have a rebel mage army behind him to carry out his already crazy plan to overthrow the Inquisition.

\---------

_Nightingale,_

_I’m going to offer myself up to Alexius and the Venatori._  
_It might or might not work._  
_If I do die in this plan, tell Cullen that I don’t regret trying._  
_I’ve inserted another letter with this for my sister._

 _Will report back soon._  
_Hopefully._

 _With love,_  
_Aly._

\----------

A few days after meeting Dorian, their plan finally set into motion. From what little information Dorian found out about Alexius’ plan, most of them had been correct. Alexius approached Alysia and Solas who was sitting idly in the tavern, waiting for him in secret; Alexius arranged the meeting to be held inside the Redcliffe castle, where Alexius had set himself up after extruding the previous Arl out. Alysia could only imagine what power this man had if he managed to kick Arl Eamon out of his own home without having the King of Fereldan say anything about it. Once she was in the castle, Dorian would sneak into the castle with her companions through the unused servant passage, and when Alexius does make a move, they would catch him off guard and attack him before he could even touch her.

Alysia revised the plan in her head, knowing that it wasn’t an entirely sound plan at all but she had to go on with whatever plan she saw fit. She could only imagine the arguments that would errupt in the war room once Leliana shares her missive with the other advisors; she shuddered at the thought of Cullen glowering at her letter in anger. She knew that the risks were not small, and she could most probably die if Dorian does not get to her on time, but this was a risk she was willing to take, she could not sit by idly while hundreds upon hundreds of rebel mages get tricked into a plan they had no power over, or worse as a Venatori slave. She was sure that Alexius’ plan would not sit well with Grand Enchanter Fiona.

\----------

Barely ten minutes into this plan, Dorian was already arguing with Bull and Blackwall; neither of them wanted to be the first to walk through the dark and narrow passageway. Slightly irritated, Dorian a lit up a small fire on the palm of his hand and walked through the mold-infested passageway, it reeked of deceased corpses and dust, his nose crinkled at the smell.

Dorian felt his right hand graze something wet, or rather mushy. The mage reeled at the sensation, in his attempt to rid of whatever it is he touched on, he accidently stood on Bull’s boot. Dorian gulped when he realized that the rather large man was now glowering at him.

Bull stared at Dorian, annoyed at the man who could barely walk through a passageway without fussing about like a child. He entirely did not like the mage one bit, firstly the mage was wearing way too much clothes into battle, all one needed was a good set of armor on their legs and they would be battle ready. Secondly, he always held a smug grin on his face, one he would gladly like to wipe off his face with his war hammer— _Dorian of house Pavus, my ass_. The thought of him only made him intensely hate being squashed in a miserable pathway with the mage.

Blackwall did not care for Bull and Dorian’s hatred, he knew that the Qunari and Tevinter had always been at odds with each other for centuries, and as a Grey Warden, he always found himself to be on the neutral side of things.The Tevinter were taught to hate the Qunari, they regarded them as savage beasts whose only purpose in life were to destroy everything their eyes set upon, and the Qunari were taught that everyone in Tevinter were immoral mages that enjoyed slavery, but most of all sacrificing them in their magic rituals—blood magic was not uncommon to their people. Blackwell knew that both sides had created lies to spread hate amongst each other, he shook his head at the thought of how petty some people could be. As he continued pressing on in the dark passageway, he smiled at the thought of Dorian and Bull brawling, wondering who would win the fight first, his bet was on Bull. He secretly hoped that Bull would punch the smug bastard back to whatever hole it is he came from. 

Dorian glanced quickly at Bull whose ridiculously large body was filling up the narrow passageway; he chuckled quietly at how stupid he looked. _The Iron Bull—what a stupid name_. Dorian let out a sigh of relief when he saw the light at the end of the tunnel growing brighter with each step. Dorian’s eyes adjusted to the sudden light; the room was lit by torches leading up to a rather large throne which sat a conceited looking man, Alexius. To which Dorian rolled his eyes at; the man looked simply absurd sitting on a throne that clearly did not belong to him. He saw Alysia and Solas walking into the throne room from the corner of his eyes; Alexius was now ushering them into the room while whispering something to Alysia, as much as he tried to listen to their conversation he could not catch a word of what they were saying. Dorian glanced at Bull who was narrowing his eyes at Alexius; he hoped dearly that he would not be at the mercy of that frightful creature war hammer if his plan went wrong.


	11. A Matter of Time- Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alysia and Dorian are sent into the future and weird shit happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be a two part chapter because the original chapter was way too long. Please bear with me :)
> 
> ♫ A Matter of Time by Dillon

Alysia’s heart pounded loudly as she walked through the doors with Solas, she felt a shiver crawl up her spine when she saw Alexius sitting on a large throne waiting for her, his face was curled up into a sinister smirk. She felt her knees grow weak with each step she took, but comfort washed over her when she felt Solas’ warm fingers wrap around hers quickly, assuring her that she was not alone in this.

She briefly eyed her surroundings to make sure she could escape if her boys did not come to her in time, the throne room felt eerily cold, adding to that effect were the scarcely lit torches on the rows of pillars, its flames created tall menacing shadows over the walls, and the blood red curtains that draped over the large glass windows painted a gory hue over Alexius’ face.

 _He must really love the darkness_ , Alysia joked to herself in attempt to compose herself. Alysia dearly hoped that nothing ominous was lurking behind the dark corners of the room. As she reached towards the middle of the room, Alexius suddenly got up from the throne and walked over to her, his tall figure towering over her; his face slowly grew conceited.

“Welcome to my home, the infamous Herald of Andraste,” Alexius said, bowing his head as he spoke. The man held his smug grin as he ushered Alysia into the room.

“Thank you for having me, Magister. I’m glad to see that my notoriety has reached your ears; I did not expect tales about me to reach Tevinter so quickly. I must thank my lady Ambassador,” Alysia replied to him, oozing confidence out to counter his.

Magister Alexius smiled at Alysia through gritted teeth.

“So, I heard that you could help the Inquisition with letting us… borrow your mages,” she said while quickly eyeing the guards who stood on both sides of the throne. Alysia felt sweat roll down her back when she saw them walk closer towards the Magister.

“That is quite right, Herald,” Alexius began, his face returning to a smirk. “But I do regret to inform you that you won’t be able to borrow them,” he said while lifting an amulet in his hand up to the air, as if to signal something—no, he was building a pool of magic around them.

“Well that’s a shame since I’ve come an awful long way for it. Let’s make a deal,” she said while walking backwards slowly, her heart racing at the green air that was covering the ceiling. “How about if I manage to _kill_ you right now, I get to keep them. Sounds fair?” she said, voice raising louder as she paced backwards, reaching for her daggers she strapped on her back at the last word.

Before the guards or Alexius could react to Alysia, Solas lit a flame wall with his staff to block them from her. Alexius eyes grew mad with rage, as whatever Solas did interrupted him from his spell casting. Alysia’s eyes grew wide when she heard a familiar voice call out to her, as she was going to turn around to face the voice, someone tackled her hard to the ground. From beneath her thick hair, she could see bolts of green lights fly through the air and erupting where Alexius stood. She tried to lift her head up to see what was happening but before she could, she saw the room grow darker and everything around her started to dissipate with the darkness, she could not tell what was happening around her except for feeling the intense burn of magic on her skin. When she tried to reach out to gasp for air, she felt her back fall firmly onto a pool of water. She cried out in pain, feeling her lower back bruise on impact. She coughed profously when she tried to breathe in, her lungs burned from the odd dry air that was floating about the room. Before she could lift herself off the wet ground to look at her surroundings, something heavy dropped on her and she felt her back dig further into the ground.

“Get off me,” she yelled from beneath the person, who rolled off her and cursed loudly.

“Festis bei umo canavarum,” the deep voice spat. Dorian sat next to Alysia, the entire half of his body drenched in water, and he looked completely shaken and confused at where he found himself.

“Excuse me?” Alysia asked in between coughs, confused at whatever he said. She couldn’t help but notice how strange the air was around them; it smelt pungent and reeked of blood, and the crumbling walls of the small room seemed to be infested with mold. She scrunched up her face in disgust as she extended her hand out to Dorian.

“Forgive me. It’s just been a long day with you around,” Dorian said while taking Alysia’s hands in his.

“Where are we?” Dorian asked as he finally composed himself.

“No clue. I got here the same way you did. Judging from the structure, we could be in a dungeon or something. And it’s… old,” Alysia said as she grazed the walls with her hands as she walked out of the room. “In any case, we shouldn’t linger here.”

They continued pass the eerie hallway, breaths shallow as they try to discern their surroundings. They walked through the dark pathway that led them up a stairs, only for it to be a dead end. Annoyed they turned back and continued down another hallway.

“I need to speak to their interior designer at once, I must tell them how magnificently designed this place is,” Dorian said while rolling his eyes.

“Where do you think we are? Are we even still in Redcliffe,” Alysia asked, while shuffling her feet on the moss-infested gravel. She groaned in disgust as she heard her boot create a squishy sound on the slimy surface. “What happened to the others?”

Dorian looked at her and let out a heavy breath, “The last I remember was calling out to you and tackling you to the ground when something loomed over you, then everything became dark. I think I just so happen to be caught in whatever it was that Alexius intended for you,” he said while tilting his head thoughtfully.

“Perfect. More magic bullshit to deal with,” she said sharply while marching through the moist ground. Alysia cautiously walked through the hallway; she narrowed her eyes when she saw pieces of red crystals jutting out of the ground, as she walked over to inspect it, Dorian held out his hand to stop her.

“Some form of lyrium,” he said while eyeing it with disgust.

“It’s… red lyrium,” she gasped as she recognized its sinister swirl that glowed in the middle of the crystal.

“Best keep away from it,” he said while leading Alysia up the stairs into a cavern of sorts. A few torches lit the large room and this room had more lyrium than the ones below, mostly every inch of the rooms were filled with it. It emitted a sickly red light that flickered against the walls; casting eerie looking shadows to form on the walls.

“Perfect. More lyrium,” Dorian spat. As he was about to maneuver himself around it, a couple of guards spotted them, unsheathing their swords while charging towards them.

“For the Elder One!” one of them cried out as he lunged at Alysia with all of his weight. As he was about to dig his sword into Alysia’s chest, she spun out of the way and kneed him in the back, with a swift movement she pulled out her daggers and dug it deeply into his head. She heard Dorian grunting from the far side of the room, he was busy casting spells at the guard who was slashing his way to Dorian heavily. Alysia ran to the man and side-kicked him before he could even reach Dorian. When the man got up, spitting blood out of his mouth, he charge towards Alysia with a deadly blow, Alysia jumped quickly and pierced his neck with her blade, causing him to spurt out blood through his mouth. Alysia watched the man gag on the blood in his mouth, squirming on the floor, but he stopped soon after. She looked up at Dorian who was regarding her handiwork with admiration.

Alysia rubbed the man’s blood off her face with the sleeve of her leather armour, gaging on the smell of his blood. It smelt rustier than it should.

“Those men were Venatori,” Dorian said as he examined the insignia on the man’s back.

“Do you think were in a holding cell of some sort? He didn’t really do a good job of keeping us in,” she said while examining the dead Venatori with the side of her boot.

“Wherever this is, it doesn’t feel right. The air, the lyrium, everything. We should press on and look for the others.”

“After you, Master Pavus,” she said, extending her arm forward for him to lead. They walked through another dark hallway, this time leading them down a flight of stairs. When they finally reached the bottom, the hallway branched off into two directions.

“Split up?” Alysia asked.

“And risk you dying.Or I? Not a chance,” Dorian replied grimly.

“Fine. Right it is,” she said while pointing the direction with her chin.

As they reached the end of the dark hallway, it opened up into a large room that was supposed to house prisoners, the jail cells were old and covered in rubble, a pool of water gathered at the middle of the room although not as much as the room where Dorian and Alysia were previously in. Red lyrium jutted out from the ceilings, its glow was deeper than the ones Alysia encountered. Alysia clutched her daggers tightly as she and Dorian pressed on into the room. As she was walking through the room, she heard a deep voice singing softly.

“Three hundred bottles of beer on the wall, three hundreds bottles of beer… Take one down, pass it around… two hundred and ninety—.” When Alysia reached the end she found a familiar face hunched over, singing to himself.

“Bull!” she cried out, clutching the cold iron bars that separated her and him. “Are you alright? What happened?!”

Bull looked up at her, his eyes sorrowful. His voice sounded deeper than normal and strange, as if a demon resided within him. She saw large shards of lyrium growing out of his skin in various places; he looked haggard and slightly deranged.

“The Elder One… not Alexius. Orlais. The Empress. Dead,” he mumbled.

“What?” she asked in whispers.

“You died, Boss. We saw you die…” he whispered. "You're not even real. You're not real. Leave me," he continued. 

“She what?” Dorian exclaimed, confused.

“But I didn’t. I’m still here Bull. I’m here,” she cried out to the half mad Qunari.

“You're real? Are you? But you… died. After your death, Alexius followed the Elder One’s orders. They killed the Empress of Orlais and after that… shit started to go wrong. He started taking over… everything with his demon army.”

Alysia gripped the bars tighter, gazing into his green eyes that were now filled with agony, so much more than she saw before.

“Wait here, I’ll get you out,” she said through almost tears. “

Alysia stepped backwards from the cell, and looked at Dorian who nodded at her.  
“Step back, Bull!” she cried out as Dorian glassed the entire iron bars with ice and she kicked it with all of her might. The bars shattered into several pieces and fell onto the ground; Alysia quickly rushed to Bull’s side and held his shaking hands.

“Where are Solas and Blackwall, Bull?”

“They should be somewhere here. I remember them… being taken away too.”

“Okay, first things first, we’ll regroup and then put the pieces back together. We can’t figure out what's going on just on Bull’s side of the story alone,” Dorian said while peering through the hallway they just came from. There was another flight of stairs through the door on the right; Alysia quickly rushed through it in hopes to find her companions.

As she reached the room that was much similar to where Bull was, she found Solas on the second cell on the right.

He looked much more distant than he used to be, he sat on the floor and rested his face on a lyrium shard that was jutting out from the wall. The crinkles in his eyes were lost; his eyes were empty and cold, as if all of the light in the world had left him. The Solas before her now was a barren shell, something she could never imagine him being. Solas lightly moved his head when he felt someone walk pass him, as his eyes drifted upwards to meet hers, his eyes started to brighten with relief.

“You’re not dead…No. Are you a trick?” Solas whispered, his legs fumbling on the floor as he tried to get up.

“No… No… Solas. I’m real,” she said as she reached out to the elf, whose hands were cold and rough when it touched hers. She felt something grow in her chest when his skin touched hers.

“Solas, we’ll get you out, okay?” she said while gently entwining her hands into his.

She let Solas out the same way she did with Bull, and as soon as he was free, she quickly jumped into his arms and embraced him tightly. Solas sunk to his knees along with Alysia when he felt how real she was, he inhaled the sweet smell that was her and his hands grasped her even tighter, as if she were truly about to die. Feeling slightly embarrassed when she realized that Bull and Dorian were staring at them, she shot Solas a reassuring smile and led him out of the cell.

“Should we give you a moment,” Dorian asked cheekily.

“Dorian. Focus,” she said as she shook his head at him.

“Over there,” Bull said, pointing towards another flight of stairs.

Alysia and her companions rushed through the stairs and quickly pressed on into the dark hallway. She found Blackwall pacing about in his cell, speaking to himself.

“Blackwall,” she called out to him. Blackwall looked up at Alysia in surprise, his brows furrowing at the sight of her face.

“You’re alive!” he exclaimed. “How? We saw you die.”

“I’ll explain in a minute, first I have to get you out.”

After letting Blackwall out, Alysia felt a wave of relief wash over her. Her friends were all right, now all they had to do was figure out what was going on.

“So what happened after I… died?” Alysia asked, hand to her chin.

“After you…” Bull stopped as if something was caught in his throat. “After the meeting, we were captured by Alexius who kept us down here. He used the mages to help the Elder One build a demon army. He executed Empress Celene and shortly after that, things just started falling apart. Maker knows how many of our people are dead now.”

“Hold on… that’s not possible. We were there only for a moment,” Dorian gasped, trying to wrap his head around all the destruction Alexius could have caused in the time that they were trapped down here.

“No Alysia, you’ve been dead for a year,” Solas said, his voice low and full of pain. “You were gone… for much too long…” he continued, grazing his hand gently on hers as he spoke.

“You’ve got to be joking! He sent us forward into the future!” he exclaimed while slapping his forehead with force.

“He what?!” she cried out, her face filled with shock as she turned to the mage who seemed too excited to be sent into the future.

“This is wonderful,” he said through his smile. “Solas, you’re a genius! Whatever you did to stop Alexius’ magic has sent us forward into time. This is perfect!”

“Hold on Dorian. You need to run that by me again,” she said, her face now scrunched up into confusion.

She could not comprehend how any of this was wonderful news to the mage whose mind seemed to be working with excitement. Whatever it was that he was thinking about, she hoped that he secretly knew how to fix this mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, feedbacks would be appreciated.
> 
> Translation to Dorian's cursing.  
> Festis bei umo canavarum: You will be the death of me.


	12. Glimpse of a Time- Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where we find out part of the contents in Alysia's fathers letter to the Inquisition and things get gruesome.
> 
> ♫ Glimpse of a Time by Broken Twin

Dorian scratched his chin and narrowed his eyes, deep in thought. The mage knew that whatever it was that Alexius tried to do didn’t work, he didn’t manage to kill present day Alysia, so that clearly meant that Alexius failed.

“Right, so we’ve been dead for almost a year,” he double-checked, to which the others nodded grimly. “So, that means that current us, haven’t experienced that horrendous future. We were just transported into the future, so in truth, we’ve only experience a couple of hours since our meeting with Alexius,” Dorian said triumphantly.

“So, we can fix this?” Alysia asked, eyes growing wide at the thought.

“Yes. I’ve dealt with magic like this before. I know how it works. I am pretty sure we can fix this,” he said, his mind now working on a plan to get them out of their future.

Bull shot Dorian a thrilled look, lifting his entire body off the floor in embrace. “Hurry! You must never let this come to pass. I will not let this happen, twice, to our Herald, “his voice full of fear.

Dorian’s eyes grew wide at the sudden display of emotion from the man who only but wanted to kill him a few hours ago.

“Right. We have to get to the throne room, I’m sure Alexius should still be in there,” Blackwall said to them.

“Hurry now, we can’t delay,” Dorian shouted as he and Alysia rushed through the hallway they came from. “If my knowledge is right, we should be able to get back from the place where we came from,” he continued while rushing through the flight of stairs.

Alysia nodded at the mage who seemed determined to change their future. They reached the top of the stairs, and wandered to the left corridor. Alysia looted whatever weapons and armors she could find to outfit everyone, and as soon as they were battle ready she set off to find Alexius through the door at the end of a narrow hallway. Her expression grew grave when she saw the castle reduced to nothing but ruin, the rubble blocked off most of the entrances into the throne room. They walked cautiously through the ruined castle, trying their best not to draw too much attention to them; she knew that in her companion’s current state they were in no shape or form to be able to take out a large number of guards. If the throne room she was in, in the past seemed eerie, the future was so much more sinister. Zombie like men dragged their feet across the ground, body too heavy to move from lyrium growing from on their skin like scales—it was truly a ghastly sight to behold.

As she and her companions were racing down an empty hallway, Alysia heard a gut wrenching scream that made her stop dead on her track, Bull almost barreled into the tiny human who was now turning back on her heels. Somewhere down the hallway, she knew someone she recognized was screaming. She rushed down the hallway as he companions swiftly followed her from behind; her mind begged for her intuition to be wrong, her heart pounded loudly in her chest as she stopped in front of the door from which the voice came from. She could hear muffled yells coming from behind the door; her breathing grew shallow as she reached for the doorknob, hands shaking as she turned it. What lay before her was gruesome and something she hoped to never see again. Strung up to the ceilings with metal chains was a scrawny looking woman, who was wearing filthy rags that might have once resembled proper clothing. Her head had patches of hair, most of which had burnt or fallen off, her skin had deep dark patches all over it, she had burn marks all over her abdomen, and she was still bleeding from fresh wounds along her arms and legs. A guard held a hot knife towards her skin, pulling it along her upper thigh, causing her to yell in pain. The smell of burnt flesh made Alysia want to spew, she sucked on her tongue hard in attempt to hold her stomach down. The prisoner looked up at Alysia and her eyes grew wide with confusion, her mouth fell at the sight, and eyes welled with tears.

The guard turned around to face the person that interrupted his enjoyment, before he could reach out for his dagger, her companions made short work of him, mercilessly killing the man who almost called out for reinforcements. Alysia quickly grabbed the key from the dead guard and freed the woman, who tumbled into her arms. She clung onto her scrawny figure, feeling her heart ache at the woman who could barely hold herself up.

“Alysia… my love… you’re alive,” the woman said through tears.

“Aurelia… what did they do to you…” she said through her throat now throbbing with pain.

Aurelia’s tears spilled on to Alysia’s warm face, she cupped Alysia’s face with her hands and kissed her forehead.

Dorian eyed them and proceeded to walk out of the room, prompting everyone else to follow him. They shut the door behind them and let the two sisters bond over their lost time, more so Aurelia’s.

“They said that you died… but I couldn’t believe it, so I went to look for you. For months. Months, Aly. I tried…” her voice drifted into sadness, her hands still shaking on Alysia’s face.

“How are you here? Right before me? Looking the same as you did when you left? While I rot here in rags, father will not be pleased with my… attire,” she joked through tears.

Alysia embraced her sister, feeling bones protrude from her body. _I will kill him_.

“Alexius’ magic didn’t work… I never died. I won’t die,” she said to her sister while trying to swallow back the well in her throat.

“Thank the Maker,” she exclaimed while boring her eyes into her sisters. “Aly… I’m sorry for putting you through this. This whole mess was my fault.”

“Lia… it isn’t. You did nothing.”

“Yes. I did. I told you to meet me at the Conclave, so that I could keep you safe, away from father after it.. But instead my mistake brought you more pain that what you had to go through back home,” she said, choking on her tears.

“No....”

“You’re not an abnormality, Aly. Father… what he did or what he planned for you was horrible. The letter he sent…. He doesn’t know that you survived the Conclave… he thinks you died." She ran her hands through Alysia’s long locks, “You’re free…” she said, her body weary from pain.

Alysia’s eyes grew-wide at her sister’s words, lips quivering, she tried to speak but nothing came out. So she settled for a silent nod from her inability form any words; she pressed her forehead to her sister’s, praying to the Maker that this future would never come to pass. This version of Aurelia was not something that she ever wanted to see again; her sister, so brave, beautiful and courageous was now reduced to nothing but a broken human with regret in her eyes.

“Quickly, we have to leave this place,” Alysia said while lifting her sister by the arm, she placed Aurelia’s arms over her shoulders to help her sister stand up. It took great effort for Aurelia to keep up with her sister; her body shook from malnutrition, legs too tired to lift her entire weight. The fresh burn on her leg stung terribly, but Aurelia forced her mind to numb the pain, in hopes that her aching body would attempt to keep up with the rest.

They left the torture room and rejoined the others who were standing guard outside the door. As soon as Aurelia found herself a decent bow, arrows and armor, they set off to look for the throne room, they ran across another deserted hallway and found themselves in a drawbridge room, the stairs above them seemed to lead to something but the walk up would prove to be difficult for everyone except Dorian and Alysia. She looked at her companions with worry in her eyes but determination reflected in theirs, they could not bear to be the ones to slow Alysia down from changing this future, so they pushed on through the pain in their bones and ache in their minds.

As soon as they reached the top they found a door that led to an empty hallway, Alysia stopped for a moment to regain her breath, her legs were starting to ache from walking around this maze of a castle. As they reached down the hallway, she saw two mages sacrifice themselves, yelling something about the Elder One as their blades ripped through their necks, soaking their white robes completely. Alysia turned her head away and moved quickly down another path, ignoring the gruesome sight before her and as she reached the end, it opened up into a foyer. She walked cautiously around the it, hoping that nothing was lurking behind the tall pillars; as she was making her way around the deserted chamber she saw a boy, somewhere in his teens standing in front of the fireplace talking to himself, before she could approach the child, he reached out for a dagger in his pocket and slit his neck, opening his slender throat wide open.

“… That was…” Aurelia whispered to herself while gazing at the lifeless body on the floor.

“… Let’s move on,” Bull said through his husky voice.

The group proceeded through the foyer, forcing their mind to grow numb at whatever it was they witnessed. Alysia felt her heart pound fiercely now as she finally reached the last door to the throne room, as she opened the door she was greeted by a couple of guards who were quick enough to sound the alarm for reinforcements, Alysia knew that they only had a little time left to dispose of the current guards and make their way back.

Bull and Blackwall charged ahead at a guard, slicing quickly through his body, their blades dug deep into the guard’s chest, splitting the silence in the room into a sickening dull thud. Aurelia made short work of the other guard by shooting an arrow right through the middle of the man’s eyes; in between the heavy breathing from everyone and Dorian’s mumbling, inhuman sounds started to echo outside of the doors.

“Quickly! Hold my hand and whatever you do, do not let go of it,” he ordered her, Dorian felt the ground rumble from something behind the door, he turned his gaze to the others. “You need to fend them off while I cast this, if they interrupt us I’m afraid that we will be stuck here forever.” The other nodded grimly at him as they gripped their weapons tightly.

Solas shot her a quick look, mouthing something at her. She felt her heart tighten with pain, she wanted to reach out to the mage but she couldn’t let her emotion ruin Dorian’s plan. Solas casted a protective barrier over the pair, his eyes crinkled slowly at the side as he regarded Alysia one last time.

“Close your eyes, love!” Aurelia cried out to Alysia as soon a horde of demons burst through the doors.

Blackwall was the first to go down, then Bull as a large Pride demon ripped through their body into two, throwing their lifeless body on the ground while it growled at the others.

“No!” she screamed through her teary face as she watched Solas be the third to fall to the demons, his eyes slowly grew lifeless, his pale skin was painted red as a demon ripped his throat off with its bare hands.

“Shut your eyes, everything is going to be fine!” Aurelia cried out again as she shot an arrow through another demon that almost had her. The woman was swift with her bow, shooting as many as she could at demons that could potentially interrupt Dorian’s fervent chanting. Alysia felt her body grow lighter and her surroundings grow darker, everything around was slowly starting to dissolve. She opened her eyes slowly to look at her sister who was falling to the ground, head smashed through by a demon.

Alysia screamed out her sister’s name into nothing as the darkness wrapped itself around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this chapter, feedbacks would be appreciated :)


	13. Out of the Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alysia meets a familiar face and forms an alliance with the mages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been stumped with what to write, so sorry if this chapter isn't as long.
> 
> ♫ Out of the Black by Royal Blood

She felt her throat grow dry from her screams, her head spun as if all the blood in her body were rushing to it, and her stomach lurched from the uncomfortable sensation that envelopped her body. As she fell out of the air, she felt the world before her come to a sudden standstill, everything around her moved in slow motion; she tumbled ungracefully onto the floor, feeling her already swollen body bruise further from the impact. She opened her eyes slowly, her vision adjusting itself to the sudden light. She stared at the scene before her, breath growing shallow in realization. Dorian’s plan worked, and he knew it too, based on the smug grin on his face.

She found herself back in the throne room, but in this reality Blackwall, Bull and Solas we’re still alive and Alexius was a short breath away from receiving his swift judgment from her daggers. Her companions had yet to realize her and Dorian’s re-appearance in the throne room; Solas’ knees sunk to the ground with his staff firmly in the air, he casted a protective magical barrier around Blackwall and Bull who found themselves surrounded by guards. Before the guards could move an inch-closer to them, Dorian let out a blood-curdling scream and waved his staff rapidly around the air, and the guards were soon trapped in a thick layer of ice, bodies unable to move from their sudden entombment. Alexius let out a cry of anger, body stiffening at his plan that was crumbling right before his eyes; he grabbed his staff and raced towards Alysia who was charging at him at equal speed. She withdrew her daggers from her back as soon as the chaos soon ensued all around her; the remaining guards who weren't trapped in Dorian's ice scrambled to their feet in attempt to change the tide in their favor. The guards were no match to Bull and Blackwall who took them down quickly, one by one found their swift demise at the end of their blades.

Alysia now stood in front of Alexius who was gritting his teeth at his failed plan. He dashed towards Alysia, casting fervent spells at her; she tried to parry with her daggers but she wasn’t fast enough to deflect the fire that was flying directly to her legs, she felt the fire burn through her armor and sting on her skin. She let out a scream of agony, she fell swiftly on the floor as felt her legs scald from the intense heat. She dug the daggers deep into the ground to help her lift her body up before Alexius could attack her again but Alexius was hovering on top of her, his face dark from anger. He kicked her savagely in the face, over and over again. She felt her face grow swollen from the kicks, her mind growing faint from the constant blow to her head. She coughed through the pauses in his kicks, and tried desperately to shield herself with her arms.

She felt something surge within her body, more so through her fingers when she tried to defend herself, something tingled at the tips of her fingers and glow for a mere second. Before she could figure what it was, Blackwall’s sword pierced through Alexius’ legs, causing the man to tumble away from her, and fall to his knees. He then struck a hard blow to the man’s head with the hilt of his sword, knocking the lights out of him; Blackwall grunted in satisfaction at the man who collapsed on the floor with a dull thud. Alysia’s chest heaved as she felt her body slowly come back to life, she tried to lift her bruised body but it wouldn’t budge; she felt warm fingers fall on her back and slowly pushing her up—it was Dorian, who regarded her with a triumphant smile.

She looked at Alexius’ unmoving body, and back at Dorian, “Is Alexius dead?”

“No, my lady. He just fainted from my blow, can’t have him die on us when he has a lot of explaining to do,” Blackwall said while shaking his blade to dislodge some of the blood that stuck to it.

She nodded slowly and felt her head grow faint from the pain. She slumped onto Dorian’s arms weakly and hung her head back into his chest to regain her composure.

“Need me to lift you out off here?” he asked.

“I’m good. But thanks Dorian,” she said as she tried to push herself off the floor with his hand firmly resting on her lower back.

“Anytime,” the mage said with a grin plastered on his face. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

She chuckled at the self-satisfied mage, internally thanking the Maker that his brilliant plan worked. She limped slowly towards her other companions who were waiting for her with regard at the door that led them out of the throne room; she nodded at them and grinned widely at them. They were safe. She was safe. But the job wasn’t done yet; she still needed the mages to help her close the Breach.

She pushed open the door and her eyes grew wide at the sight before her, the mages were on their knees before her, as well as Grand Enchanter Fiona who was kneeling right in front of the crowd.

Relief washed over her from the admiration that the rebel group were regarding her with. This was the Inquisition’s first victory.

\---------

Fiona’s face was lit crimson when Alysia pulled the tiny woman into a quick embrace, the Inquisition’s alliance with the mage was unanimous; the rebel group agreed that they could not find any other better cause to fight for. As Alysia was about to pull away from her embrace with Fiona, she heard the door slam wide open; she saw a man walk in from the corner of her eye. She turned her face to look at the sudden visitor; it was a tall man with blonde hair that was swept backwards, revealing his very angry looking face. His brown eyes shot her and Fiona accusatory look, his face scrunched up slowly into a scowl.

“Who are all of you?” the man snapped, his annoyed voice filling the room.

“King Alistair!” Fiona cried out in surprise.

“Grand Enchanter Fiona, explain yourself. I offered the mages safe harbor in Redcliffe, and this is how you repay me? By giving it away to a Tevinter magister.”

“Your highness, I never—we never intended for it—”

“It doesn’t matter what you intended. You’ve made it impossible for me to help you,” he said while frowning at his words. He sighed heavily and looked at Fiona squarely, “I truly wanted to help the mages but you’ve made it impossible.”

“Oh Alistair, is that really necessary?” a voice snapped from behind the guards that marched with the King. The man who spoke had a very alluring Antivan accent, Alysia felt her ears twitch at the familiarity in the man’s voice—she felt as thought she recognized it from somewhere.

“Don’t start with me now,” Alistair replied to the man; whose face slowly came into view as he sauntered over to where the King was standing; his light-blonde hair was meticulously braided, it complimented his beautiful golden-brown complexion that seemed to radiate from the torch fires. His amber eyes glowed with amusement at the King who groaned beside him, but for the most part it slowly widened at the sight of Alysia’s face who was equally shocked.

“Is that? No it cannot be.”

“Zevran?” Alysia cried out to the man, whose smile widened at the sight of a familiar face.

“Alysia Trevelyan, you have truly returned from the dead!” he exclaimed while swooping her into his arms and twirling her about the room.

“Aly, what are you doing so far away from home?” he cried out, his joy beaming in his face. His suave demeanor came undone upon the sight of her; his sudden shift in personality was so unexpected that Alistair laughed loudly at him.  
Fiona glanced quickly at the three of them, confused at the odd reunion that was happening before her.

“Oh you know, stopping the bad guys and saving the day. It's what I do now, haven’t you heard?” she replied to him as soon as her feet fell firmly to the ground, his arms still wrapped delicately around her waist.

“Zevran, can I safely assume that she might be one of your friends from the Crows?”

“Not even close, your majesty. I know her, from a… time,” he said coyly.

“Oh… No! Zevran. We’ve discussed this before. I don’t want to know about your nightly encounters.”

“As if I would ever bed the man who tried to kill my father!” Alysia exclaimed while laughing.

“Wait. Hold on. You’re glad to see the man who tried to kill your father?” Alistair asked, his face growing shock.

“With good reason,” Zevran interrupted. “I had a job and he was my mark.”

“But this doesn’t explain why you’re both friends,” Alistair said while furrowing his eyebrows.

“Look put it this way, a lot of people want my father dead. And like Zev said, with good reason.”

“But you’re friends with an assassin.”

“As are you, your majesty. You don’t hear me asking questions at your odd relationship,” Alysia replied, smiling at the King whose eyes grew-wide at her ease with talking to the King of Fereldan.

“Zevran, you must introduce me to the woman who is undaunted by my title,”

“Oh yes, it is with great pleasure that I present to you, Alysia Trevelyan, the youngest daughter to Bann Trevelyan of the Free Marches. I’m sure that the both of you will get along.”

“And recently… Herald of Andraste,” she quipped while rolling her eyes at the ridiculous title.

“Wait… you’re the Herald?” he asked, confused. “Alistair, is it too late for me to re-consider a change in clients?”

“But I thought you said that it’s good business for an assassin to have a King as a client, or as a mark.”

“Ah, but it’s not too late for you to still be a mark, my friend. I could still be in-between jobs.”

“Maker, this is why I question the old balls and chains when she decided to leave me with you. I never understood why she decided to leave me with an untrustworthy Antivan. You did try to kill us all, remember?”

“Slander and lies, Alistair Theirin! Shame on you.”

Alysia tossed her head back and let out a hearty laugh. “Maker Zevran, you did find yourself in good company after all those years!” to which he shrugged and turned to Alistair who was merely shaking his head.

“If you’re all quite finished, could we please address the matter at hand,” Fiona interrupted. Realizing that their attention fell on her, she grew nervous and quickly excused herself out of the room.

“Oh yes,” Alistair said, and cleared his throat. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Trevelyan. I’m Alistair Theirin, involuntary King of Fereldan,” he said while musing over his title. “About earlier, with the mages. I am… sorry about that,” he said, face falling in shame.

“You don’t owe us an apology, really. We’ve rather come to good understanding, the mages and I. They’ve agreed to join the Inquisition and will depart your lands soon.”

“Really? The Inquisition swoops in and saves my uncle and I the trouble of doing all of the grimy work?” he asked, pleased. Alistair nodded his head at the guards who stood in front of the door where Fiona and her were holding their meeting, to leave.

“Apparently so,” Alysia said while smiling warmly at Alistair.

“Like Zevran, I’m re-considering a career change,”

“One does not quit being a King. Well, unless they are assassinated,” Zevran chimed in.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that Zevran,” Alysia said while shooting him a knowing smile.

“Say, if you’re with the Inquisition. Is there a Leliana serving it? Or a Cullen Rutherford?” Alistair asked, his head resting on his chin.

“Sister Leliana? Yes! She’s our spymaster,” Alysia replied. “And as for Cullen, he’s Commander to the Inquisition. Do you know them?” she asked, puzzled.

“Oh yes. We three—Leliana, Zevran and I have had our share of adventures together,” Alistair said while staring absently at the ceiling. “During the blight, we happened to come across Cullen who was a Templar at a Kinloch Hold.”

“Who we saved, if I recall,” Zevran spoke into the room.

Alysia tilted her head sideways, she recalled Chancellor Roderick yelling at Cullen about him being a Templar, and she had never found a reason to speak about his former self to him—but she never heard anything about him being saved during the blight.

“Wait, you saved Commander Cullen from Kinloch Hold,” her expression growing more confused.

“Oh yes, he had quite… the hatred for mages when we first met him. But I’ve heard that after Kirkwall, he’s surprisingly adapting to them.”

“Andraste’s tits,” she muttered, to which she quickly covered her mouth in realization and apologized profusely at Alistair for swearing in front of him.

Alistair grinned broadly at Alysia who was fumbling at her words; something about her reminded him of a woman he loved so dearly.

“You don’t need to apologize to me. It’s quite refreshing to see someone at ease with me… for once,” he said. “So… why we’re you swearing again?”

Alysia bit her bottom lip, and cast her gaze down to the floor. “Well, Cullen, and the rest of my advisors don’t know that I’m bringing the mages back home… and the last time Cullen and I spoke, it wasn’t pleasant,” she whispered while burying her face into her hands at the thought of having to speak, or rather argue with Cullen again.

Alistair’s eyes grew wide at Alysia whose face was slowly growing grave; he shot the elf a grin, who returned the gesture by patting the King’s back.

“Told you that the both of you would get along.”

Alysia cocked her head at the both of them, puzzled at whatever devilish thoughts were forming in their heads, which only served to make Alistair laugh.

“Sorry, we must not make much sense at all. It’s just, you remind me so much of Elena,” he said, his expression growing wistful at the thought.

“Ah yes, she always dove head in first into everything. Barely consulted any of us when she needed to make an important decision…. Until now,” Zevran said while looking out of the window.

“Whose… Elena?” Alysia asked, she felt the atmosphere in the room grow heavy at the woman’s name.

“She was the Hero of Fereldan, and my wife.”

 _Was_ , Alysia wondered to herself.

“Yes, she disappeared one day and no one has heard from her since,” Alistair said, his expression growing grave.

“Um… I could possibly ask the small council for aid in finding her, if you would like me to?” she offered. Alistair smiled weakly at the Herald and nodded.

“But first, you have to lead a mage rebel back to Haven. Elena will come back,” he said while clasping his hands over Alysia’s. “I’m sure of it.”

“I’m sure I have taken much of your time today. I should be off,” she said while bowing at the King who beamed back at her. In reality, she was afraid to go back to Haven, she was afraid if she had made a terrible mistake with forming an alliance with the mages.

She excused herself out of the room and waved the both of them good-bye. As she was making her way through the hallway, she heard footsteps trailing from behind her. She stopped briefly and smiled to herself, as if knowing who was following her. She turned swiftly on her heels and crossed her arms at the man who grinned sheepishly at her.

“Zevran, you are to look after the King, okay? He needs you.”

“Ah, such is life. It gets a tad bit boring in Fereldan, especially if there are no beautiful women to admire,”

Alysia giggled at him and strode closer to the elf, she didn’t realize how much taller he was compared to her, not until she was standing face to face with the elf, who was cocking his eyebrow at her. She rolled her eyes at him, and stood on her tiptoes and planted a chaste kiss on to his cheek. Her lips quirked up at the elf, who was now smirking at her.

“You be good now, Zev,” she cried out while making her way down the corridor.

\----------

_Nightingale,_

_So, the plan worked. Yay._  
_Zevran and his royal highness says hello to their favourite cloistered sister._  
_Will be home soon with some new friend(s). Please be nice to all of them._  
_I know Cullen won’t be._

_Alysia_


	14. When You Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alysia returns from Redcliffe and Cullen blushes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♫ When You Break by Bear's Den

He clutched the letter that Leliana received from Alysia, and felt anger slowly rise in his body; he could feel it in the way on how his shoulders stiffened and his jaw slowly clenching at the words she wrote. The entire war room was silent upon the receival of her missive, neither Cassandra or Leliana knew if forming an alliance with the mages was the best way to go about the entire situation, Josephine tried to look at the situation in a brighter perspective but Cullen, Cullen was extremely furious at her. Of all the dumbest things that she had ever done, this was by far the worse.

He couldn’t wait to give her a piece of his mind when she returned. His mind could not wrap around her decision in forming an alliance with the mages, had she not heard about the mage and Templar uprising in Kirkwall? It was true that she lived in the Free Marches, a place without actual governance, but in whose right mind was it a good decision to let mages come and go freely within the Inquisition? She might have had good intentions when she decided to form an alliance with the mages but had she not realized that by allowing the mages to join the Inquisition, she had given them freedom? The freedom to practice magic as they will without the Circle to loom over them. He was completely baffled by her utter foolishness in this regard.

He heard the Chantry door open, and his eyes quickly darted to the noise; he saw the woman that was the cause of his displeasure; her figure stood by the door for a moment, as if contemplating to walk into the hall. He saw her shake her head briefly and straighten her back, her eyes locking on his; she strode down the hall, her boots clicking quickly against the floor, but her chest heaved with each step she took. He knew that she was anxious.

 _She better be_.

\---------

Alysia sat still on her horse, her fingers firmly wrapped on its reins. She bit her lower lip when her eyes moved slowly to the Chantry, they were waiting for her, and she knew that. She did not know how her advisors, especially Cullen would receive the news of the alliance. As if. She knew that she would receive a fair scolding from the Commander; after all, she should have consulted them before she made this decision.

She let out a heavy breath and got off her horse promptly, she had no other option but to face their ire, and the sooner, the better. She passed the reins of her horse to Master Dennet, who nodded cheerily at her return. She was glad at least there was someone who was happy to see her. She made her way to the Chantry swiftly, her heart pounded with each step she took; she stopped briefly by the door when she felt someone’s gaze burning into her, it was Cullen, no doubt. She rolled her shoulders back and held her head high at the stern looking Commander—she had to face this, she was the fucking Herald of Andraste, if she could fall out a hole in the sky and survive, she could definitely survive her advisors yelling at her.

She heard disagreement coming from the war room, mainly Cassandra and Cullen having a go at each other about the mages, she quickly walked into the room and shut the door behind her, and it prompted everyone’s attention to shift to her. Silence fell over the room as no one knew what to say or how to go about Alysia’s decision, they saw her shoulders tense at their gaze but more so when Cullen growled at the sight of her.

“Have you lost your mind?” he cried out, his thundering voice filling the room. “How could you have formed an alliance with the mages? What in Maker’s name were you thinking?”

Alysia clenched her fists at his yells, part of her wanted to yell back, but the other part of her knew that she deserved it. She knitted her eyebrows together and glared at him, hoping that her stare alone would make him falter. “Cullen, they are people, just like you and I are. How could I watch them fall into the hands of a ruthless Tevinter magister?”

She saw Cullen clench his jaw at her remark, his honey eyes growing dark. But somehow, there was a look of remorse in his face, as if what she said had made sense to him.

He cleared his throat and glanced back at her, his eyes returning to its amber hue. “It’s not about treating them as people. How are we going to protect our people if they turn into abominations?”

Alysia drew a sharp intake of breath and what he said, he was partly true but what if he was wrong? She had met many mages in her life; some of them were terrible people, who used their magic for evil. But there were also mages like Dorian, Solas and Vivienne, who were lovely people and would think twice on hurting good people. How could he not see that? How could he not understand that there were good mages? She knew that he was a Templar, and she knew that something terrible must’ve happened to him at Kinloch Hold and at Kirkwall, but despite everything could he still not see that there are still good mages out there who don’t deserve to be locked up from the world?

“Give them a chance. That’s all I ask of you,” she finally said, hoping that her few words might change his mind.

“It's not about chances—”, Cullen was interrupted when the war room door burst open and in came a familiar face, swaggering into the room that was filled with tense atmosphere.

Cassandra made a choking sound when the mage sauntered over to the table and wrapped his arm around Alysia’s shoulder; Alysia beamed at the mage who smirked back at her.

“Is the fun part over yet? Here I was waiting for the both of you to claw each other out,” the mage said while chuckling darkly.

Leliana laughed under her breath at the mage, which made Cassandra groan at the spymaster who found joy in the mage’s dark humor. Josephine turned to the mage and smiled politely at him, but Cullen on the other hand lifted his eyebrow at him, and rolled his eyes. Alysia glared at Cullen who was regarding Dorian with disgust, he truly was an impossible human being to work with.

“Was this the Tevinter mage you spoke of?” Leliana asked while bowing lightly at him.

“Yes, this is Dorian,” Alysia introduced.

“Dorian of house Pavus. Pleased to meet your acquaintance” the mage said while bowing deeply to the room.

“He saved my life, well the Inquisition’s life. So I truly am in debt to him,” Alysia said while shooting him a quick smile.

“Hardly! What Alexius did threatened all of Thedas, not just the Inquisition,” Dorian said while leaning his body on the brick wall of the war room.

“This threat… you spoke about it briefly in one of your letters. Could you explain what happened?” Cullen said, in hopes that maybe her actions could be justified by whatever Alexius did or was about to do.

“I’ll skip reliving the tale, if that’s alright. I’ve had enough magic talk for one day,” the mage said while ruffling Alysia’s hair. “But if you need me, I’ll be talking to that rather interesting dwarf. Apparently he is a well-known author.”

“So, you’re staying?” Alysia asked, her eyes lightened with joy.

“Of course! As if I would leave my favourite Herald, in this time or in the future,” he said while shooting her a wide grin.

Alysia’s eyes grew wide at his unbashful confession, she skipped over to the mage to give him a hug, to which Cassandra and Cullen both made muffled disgusted noises. Cullen narrowed his eyes at the both of them hugging, he had no idea why the Tevinter mage bothered him so much, but neither did he know why this particular scene made him even more annoyed. Leliana hid her smirk from under her gloved hand and shot a wry look at Cullen, who rolled his eyes at the spymaster. Which only served to make her snicker at him.

The mage ambled out of the room, not before quickly blowing a kiss towards Alysia who giggled at him. She turned her attention back to Josephine who coughed at the side of the room, prompting everyone to continue their discussion.

‘Right. Alexius.”

\----------

 

“Are you sure?” Cullen asked, his eyes narrowing at her tale.

“Of course I am. Would I lie about being able to travel through time?” she scoffed at him. She was beginning to wish Dorian had decided to stay in the war room and re-assure her advisors about what happened to them. She knew that what happened to Dorian and her sounded farfetched, and she understood why her advisors were regarding her and her story with suspicion. But had she not survived through it, they would have witnessed everything in that ghastly future firsthand, and that was not something she wanted anyone to experience.

“We have no reason to doubt the Herald. The Inquisition has gotten this far because of her,” Josephine pointed out, nodding her head to herself in agreement at her logic.

Alysia saw Cullen bury his face in his hands, and sigh behind his gloved hand. She knew that whatever chance he thought he had of winning the argument had been overturned by the witty Ambassador. She truly was conniving, Alysia thought, amused.

“But why would Alexius want you?” Cullen asked, lifting his head out of his hand. His face looked more confused now, but his eyes had a hint of desolation in it. Alysia shrugged at the Commander’s question, because in truth she did not know why Alexius wanted her, in this moment she was glad that Blackwall did not kill Alexius, for he was the key to all her questions.

“But who holds such power to achieve assassinating Empress Celene?” Leliana asked gravely. The spymaster looked afraid at the very possibility of someone being able to that. Empress Celene was well loved by her people, and was regarded as “The Lioness” by those she inspired, although her ascension to the throne was considered to be illegitimate by some nobles.

“The Venatori, for one,” Alysia said while resting her chin on her right hand. “And the Elder One, whom we know nothing about.” The idea of a man being able to wield a legion of depraved people, willing to fight senselessly for an unknown cause frightened Alysia. Whoever the Elder One was, he clearly saw Alysia’s existence as a threat, but she did not know why.

“We must gather information about this Elder One. I will send my scouts out at once to try and find out what they can about him,” Leliana said to the room, while writing something down on a piece of paper. “Josephine, could you ask your people in Orlais to find out anything about the players of the Game?” she asked the ambassador who nodded swiftly and briskly walked out of the room, her heels clicking loudly on the cold floor.

“I will speak to Mother Giselle and see if the Chantry has any records of the Venatori,” Cassandra said while bowing, and she excused herself out of the room nippily.

The room fell silent as Cullen and Alysia were the only two people left in it; she briefly looked at Cullen to inspect if his anger at her had subsided. The Commander’s shoulders slouched for a moment, but his eyes intently gazed at the map on the table. Unmoving, she shrugged at his posture and saw herself out, leaving the Commander to his duty.

She felt him looking at her as she left the room, wondering if she should have said something to him. Of all the accidental mistakes that she had made, angering Cullen had by far been the worse.

\----------

She sat on her bed and looked at her weary face on the stained mirror, she looked far older than she should be, she was after all only 28; the frown lines cemented onto her forehead reminded her of the past that she left behind, when was the last time had she lived her life freely? Truly and genuinely, she could not remember. Was running away a good idea? She knew that they would find out soon enough, and they would come after her and Alysia. She placed the mirror down on her bed and quickly brushed through her curls, feeling a pang of regret for doubting her decision. She knew that in this moment she had to be strong, not just for Alysia, but also for herself.

As she was about to get off her bed, she heard her door slam open, and a nimble creature leaped on to her, pushing her entirely back on to the bed. She recognized its silver locks that splayed all over its back, Aurelia smiled at her sister who buried her face into her chest. She brushed Alysia’s hair lightly with her fingers, musing on the fact that despite her age, Alysia’s attachment to her had never change ever since they were little girls.

“What’s wrong, my love?” she cooed to her sister, who in turn sighed at the question.

Alysia lifted her head up to look at her sister, she gazed intently at her sister’s beautiful face, reminding herself that whatever she saw in the distant future would never ever come to pass, not if she could help it. The cold winter breeze filled the comfortable silence in the room; Alysia laid her head on her sister’s lap feeling the warmth through her dress seep into hers.

“Hey… you won’t leave, will you?” Alysia asked, her eyes staring at the floor.

“And where would I go?” Aurelia asked softly, confused at her sister’s unexpected question.

Alysia squeezed her sister’s hand gently and smiled weakly at her.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice shook as the words came out.

Aurelia titled her head sideways at her sister’s peculiar behavior.

“Aly, you don’t have to thank me. We’re family.”

Alysia nodded slowly and lifted her head off her sister’s lap.

“Only if father looked at it that way,” Alysia said while excusing herself out of the room.

Before Aurelia could call out to her sister, Alysia had already walked out of the room, she heard her sister’s boots crunch against the snow in the distance, slowly fading with each step. Whatever it was that she had bottled up, it was clearly bothering her. If only she knew what was troubling her, would that have made all the difference in the world?

\----------

Alysia sighed quietly as she walked to her cabin; she prayed silently for the images in her head to stop haunting her. As she made her way to cabin she saw Cullen standing in front of her door, waiting for her. She narrowed her eyes at the Commander who seemed distraught at something, was he going to yell at her again, she wondered. She briskly walked towards the Commander, and called out to him loudly, which served to make the Commander gasp in surprise.

“Herald I’m—”, he was stopped by a groaned that escaped the tiny human’s lips.

“It’s Alysia, Cullen. We’ve been through a lot, the least you could do is call me by my name?” she asked, pleadingly.

“Yes. Sorry. Alysia,” he corrected himself.

“So, what can I do for you?” she asked while quizzically looking up at him. Cullen’s let out a forced cough and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand when he saw her scrutinizing him.

“It would be best if we spoke, in private,” he said while smiling at her.

“Cullen, you’re the only person standing in front of my door. I doubt anyone else will hear us,” she said to him, to which she regretted when she saw his face fall for some reason.

She shivered uncomfortably and flexed her gloved hands, “But it’s pretty cold out here. Maybe a fire would do me some good,” she said while ushering Cullen into her warm room. She sat on her bed while Cullen found himself to fall comfortably on the chair, opposite of her. He felt the fire from the hearth warm him immensely; he found it odd that it was much warmer in here than in his room, even though they were built the same way.

“So, you needed to talk?” she asked, resting her head on her hands.

“Ah, yes,” he stopped and scratched him chin, as if thinking of the right words to say to her. “About earlier, I’m sorry for mistrusting you,” he said, letting his apology slip out of her nervous lips.

“You were right to. I mean, I deserved it,” she said, setting her gaze down on her feet.

Cullen watched her face that was illuminated by a small candle burning by her bedside table. The light flickered against her tanned skin, her brows were knotted together as she stared absently to the floor, and he wondered what was going through her mind. Her long hair was braided partially, little bits of her hair clung to the side of her face, which only made Cullen want to brush it off her face, and he resisted the urge to place his callous fingers over her face. He remembered the night when she was in his room, her slender body lying on his bed. He recalled the way her sweat rolled off her bronze skin, and she smelt of fresh rain and something sweet. He pushed the thought of her out of his mind as her gaze moved from the floor to his face, eyes full of wonder. He wanted to so badly touch her again, and he had no idea why. They never particularly hit it off ever since they met, so he found these urges to be quite alarming.

“Cullen…?” she whispered his name, while looking up at him.

Cullen sighed and turned his gaze to meet her eyes, feeling her blue eyes grow darker as she stared into his honey eyes.

“Alysia… I’m glad that I –we, didn’t lose you,” he said. He gulped quietly at his sudden confession, and saw her eyes grow wide at it. He felt his face grow hot at his words, and he mumbled a curse under his breath, wondering why in Maker’s name did he say that. He hoped for her to say something, anything, to change the topic. Instead she grinned widely at him and giggled, tossing her head backwards as she let her laugh rip through her.

“Cullen Rutherford, I’m afraid you’re stuck with a incompetent Herald like me,” she said, while straightening her face to him. She grinned back at the Commander, who smiled sweetly at her. She was caught off guard by his smile, and how it spread across his face so beautifully. Without a large table between them, she realized how handsome this man truly was. He had the most beautiful blonde locks, and to top it all off his honey eyes seemed to burn majestically against the fire in her room. She wanted to reach out to him and trace the stubbles on his jaw, and what a mighty fine jaw he had, she thought. She felt her right arm slowly lifting off her lap as he chuckled at her, his deep voice filling the room entirely.

“I’m sorry for thinking that you were incompetent,” he said, grinning at her.

“No! No! I was. I am. I admit. I’ve been a spoilt and whiny noble, this whole time. So I get why you got mad at me when I chose the mages, especially after what happened to you Kinloch—” she gasped and covered her mouth quickly with her hand when Cullen lifted his eyebrow at her.

“Kinloch…? How do you…who told you about that?” he said, his tone growing deeper.

Alysia shifted uncomfortably on her bed and bit her bottom lip. She turned her gaze back to the Commander who had brows furrowed together.

Just as they were making amends, she had to say something stupid, she thought angrily to herself.

“Ah… I met King Alistair… he told me about what happened. After I went through… time,” she said, her voice shaking as she spoke.

Cullen drew a sharp intake of breath and rested his back into the wooden chair.

“So you’re not…” he trailed off, figuring out the right words to say.

“No, I’m not judging you. For anything. You did what you had to do, just like me,” she murmured to him, sympathizing him for the horrible things he had to go through. And yet, he never showed anyone that he was suffering, she did not know if she should consider it to be truly commendable or stupid, but it made her appreciate his presence in the Inquisition even more.

Cullen smiled weakly at her words, letting it seep into him. He was glad that there was at least one person in this world who did not judge him for hating the mages as he did. But after Kirkwall, and thanks to Varric, his hatred for them lessened, and maybe now because of Alysia, his perception of them might change entirely.

“So… the future with Dorian. Are you alright?”

Alysia looked up at him, surprised at his concern. He was undoubtedly the first person to ever ask how she was holding up after what Alexius had done to her and Dorian.

“I’m fine,” she said while waving her hand at him, in an attempt to dismiss his seriousness. “After all, I seem to be a bad luck magnet anyways. What’s another traumatic event going to do?” she said while chuckling darkly at Cullen.

She realized that her humor was in poor taste when Cullen shot her an even more concerned look. She grinned widely at him, as if to show him that will survive this, but she could not tell if he believed her entirely. It was true that whatever happened was terrifying but all she had to do was move on from it and try to be a better Herald for her people.

Cullen looked at her intently and felt sorry for her. She was an unwilling piece in the Inquisition, and still after everything she had been through, she was still willing to stand tall and fight. It was truly admirable.

“Well, I think I’m overstaying your welcome,” he said while getting off the chair. He walked towards the door and for a moment he hesitated leaving, he shot her a doleful look when he saw her eyes light slightly with horror.

“If you ever need to talk, you know where to find me,” he said, bowing to her before her left the room.

Alysia sat on her bed, feeling dark thoughts slowly crowding her mind. She felt bits of her fall apart at the frightening future; she dreaded thinking about the possibilities that could have befallen everyone right now if Dorian’s plan didn’t work. How could she live with herself knowing that she had failed everyone? Solas, Bull, Blackwall, and everyone around her now were safe, uncorrupted and free from all the afflication that could have befallen them and it was all because of Dorian. Even right now, the only reason she survived her father’s plans was because of her sister, she would’ve been held up in isolation if her sister had not saved her. She was no Herald of Andraste; she was just a little girl playing pretend in hopes to escape her past.


	15. Out of Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas POV chapter. He finds out a secret about the Trevelyan sisters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♫ Out of Place by Ourlives

He looked up from the book he was reading, wondering what the commotion outside of his cabin was. He rose to his feet when he heard laughter and half-drunk yelling—“Here, here! To the Herald,” the crowd cheered around a bonfire. His eyes crinkled at the edges when he looked out of the window, a smile forming on his face. It was the Herald; she was sitting amongst Haven’s people sharing ale with them.

The last time he saw her was when she was when she returned from Redcliffe, she left in a hurry to speak to her advisors and he barely saw her ever since. He did not know what happened to Dorian and her when they emerged suddenly behind him, but from what little he heard from Dorian, he said that whatever willpower she held almost shattered at the terrible future she saw. He noted how her party was slowly growing bigger with the addition of Dorian, a vivacious Tevinter mage whom Alysia seemed to adore, but he somehow seemed meeker in front of everyone else, especially in the presence of Bull. He heard from Sister Leliana that the advisors did not take her forming an alliance with the mages well, especially Cullen. But he saw Cullen walking to her cabin shortly after noon; he seemed more sullen that he usually did. He tried not to pry at what was going through the Commander’s mind as it was not his place, but mostly because he was a mage, and he knew that Cullen was not very fond them.

He leaned against his window, staring at her; the Herald was true to her title, she was truly doing the work of the Maker’s bride. He was neither Dalish nor a city Elf, and his interest of the Maker, Andraste and even elvhen gods were purely academic rather than belief. But somehow when he saw her, he truly believed that maybe there was something worth believing in.

She unwillingly participated in whatever the Inquisition wanted from her, but in truth she was the only person who sincerely cared for the people under the Inquisition. She was clothing them with hides, feeding them with whatever meat she could find, healing them and teaching them how to survive after what happened at the Conclave. He did not know Divine Justinia personally but he knew that her death dealt a huge blow to her people, her believers. The Herald was truly trying to mend them.

He saw her sitting next to Varric and the elf that was assigned to her laughing merrily. Just a few weeks ago, people were bowing at her and refused to speak to her, either out of fear or fascination. Now, they treated her as if she was normal and not sent by Andraste, but the title never failed to slip from their tongues. He watched her wince when someone called her that, and chuckled to himself.

_Alysia._

He decided that maybe he should join her and her people, as much as he liked being held up in his cabin devouring books and practicing his magic, her presence soothed him profoundly.

“Solas!” Alysia greeted, waving at him, ale spilling from her cup. “Come sit here,” she yelled out and patted on wooden branch she was sitting on.

Solas smiled warmly at her, “Herald,” he greeted back, in amusement just to watch her wince again. Rhoswen poured him a stein of ale which he took graciously.

“Ah-ah, it’s Alysia, remember? See even lovely Rhoswen here has gotten used to calling me that, right?” she said while patting Rhoswen’s back.

“…Barely,” the elf replied loudly, she felt braver than she used to around the Herald, largely from the fact that she had been drinking with her since Alysia woke up from her afternoon slumber.

“I’m trying,” Solas said, smiling.

“Barely,” Alysia replied, leaning closer to him.

He could feel her breath on him, she smelt of alcohol and something sweet. He wondered what the other smell was, while sipping his ale. Varric shot him a look while wiggling his eyebrows.

“So Chuckles seems to be having fun, for once.”

“I have my moments.

“You sure do,” Varric, replied, sarcasm in his voice.

“So, I have heard that your books are very popular, Master Thetras,”

“I do alright.”

“I’m glad of it,” Solas said while nodding in appreciation..

Varric narrowed his eyes at him and tried to register the elf’s sudden compliment in his head.

“Really? No sarcasm? No superior attitude?”

“We live in a dark and angry time, child of the stone. So much of what people believed have come crashing down. If you bring them a little peace from the worlds you make between the pages, then you have done more that most.”

“You know what I like about you Chuckles? Your boundless optimism,”

“It’s comforting that whatever qualities I lack, you’ll invent for me, Varric.”

Solas saw Alysia looking at them, intently listening to their friendly banter.

Her face scrunched up into seriousness, as if she was listening to him and Varric discussing battle strategies. He smiled at her when their eyes met, and he saw her mouth move as if wanting to say something, but then before she could, she ended up chocking on the the swig of ale that she took.

Rhoswen got to her feet and patted the Herald’s back, who was now coughing while laughing.

“This is why humans need us. They can’t even hold their ale down,” Varric said while chuckling.

Alysia held her hand up as if to disagree, shrugged, then proceeded to chug her drink down. She licked the excess ale of her lips, and grinned at Solas and Varric.

“Did you know that it’s rude to talk about a Lady’s drinking habits in front of her Varric?” Alysia said while cocking her eyebrow.

“Snowflake, you’re far from a lady.”

“I beg to differ, ser,” Rhoswen said, coming to Alysia’s defense.

“Oh! And I suppose you think my sister is more of a lady than I am? Hm?” Alysia asked, while swatting Varric playfully.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Varric replied, staring at her in mock-seriousness.

“Varric please. What the both of you do in your spare time is not something I want to know,” she replied darkly.

Before Varric could counter her, she chugged the last bit of ale in her stein and slammed it on the wooden bench, causing Rhoswen to jump up in fright.

“Another round!” she announced, and the crowd cheered again.

Solas shot Varric a pleading look for him to keep the ale away from her. They both knew that the next round of ale might actually make the Herald pass out, and they couldn’t have that if she was going to seal the Breach tomorrow. Before Alysia could grab another stein from one of Leliana’s scouts, she fell face first onto the ground. And grumbled inaudibly. The crowd stopped their merry cheering and gasped in horror.

Both Solas and Varric jumped onto their feet at the same time, Rhoswen followed soon after. As Solas and Varric were about to peel the Herald’s face off the ground, she sprang up suddenly and laughed loudly, and then slumped onto Solas’ chest, nuzzling against his warmth. Solas could feel her bare skin on him, her cheeks felt warm and soft; he felt everyone’s gaze fall on them, shock that she was in an apostate’s arm of all people; his nose slightly crinkled at their curiousity. Before he could hear whatever smart remark Varric was conjuring, he picked the Herald off the floor and announced that he was taking her back to her cabin. He could hear the crowd whispering and Varric saying something to them, shortly after the crowd continued their merry singing.

Solas shook his head lightly, thankful at Varric way with words.

\----------

Solas pushed open Alysia’s door and propped her gently onto her bed. He lit a nearby candle with his fingers; its flame gently danced, illuminating Alysia’s face. He pushed her hair off her face, gently tucking it behind her ear. He studied her sleeping face, her uncouth exterior coming undone at her peaceful sleeping face. She was not the demon that the Chantry feared, not the Herald of Andraste that the people worshipped her as, not a Trevelyan who lived her life in false mask of happiness, she was not the human definition of snow, she was just Alysia.

And that was all it took for him to place his trust in her.

He noticed how she shifted uncomfortably under all of that armor, he was fairly certain that she would regret the alcohol and sleeping in her armor in the morning. He titled his head sideways for a moment and contemplated if he should call Rhoswen in to remove the Herald’s armor. But recalling how she was also almost drunk with stupor he decided that maybe asking Rhoswen was not the best option.

_What about Aurelia?_

He recalled that she had to meet with Dorian about what happened at Redcliffe.

He pondered for a second and thought that maybe he should do it. It was not as if he had never seen a woman in her smalls before or lack thereof—he shook his head at the thought.

_She’s jut another human._

He placed his slender fingers on the buckles of her boots, slowly removing each lace, and then he moved quickly to the buckles of her armor, unfastening it; he removed the heavy plate of her and placed it on the floor beside her. One last layer. His fingers moved swiftly to the top button of her tunic, carefully unbuttoning it, making sure not to wake her. As he was removing the tunic off her, he noticed a gash protruding on her upper back. He traced it lightly and noticed that the gash continued downwards. Curious, he carefully turned her over on her belly to examine the lines. Solas’ eyes grew wide with shock when he realized what the gash was. He could not tell where the scar begun nor ended, all he knew was that it was old judging from the formation it had on her skin. Solas quickly turned her over and placed a blanket over her, he felt like he intruded something that he shouldn’t have. That it was not his place to have discovered this about the Herald.

He inched further away from her and saw her stir in her sleep, muttering something inaudible.

He clenched his fingers into a ball, cursing his curiosity.

_Those scars were burn marks._

And only Maker knew how her entire back was scarred with them. Before he could examine them further, someone pushed her room door open and a gasp escaped their lips.

“What have you done?” the voice asked, scurrying in haste on the floorboards, its figure towering over Alysia’s sleeping body.

Solas blinked, confused at the accusation that had befallen him. He frowned at the woman who looked crossed at him, as if he was caught stealing something precious.

“I have done nothing. She passed out, so I brought her here,” he said while frowning.

“Listen, Solas. Whatever you thought you saw, it’s not… You can’t tell anyone about this,” Aurelia said, her eyes woeful at her words. “Understand?”

Solas sighed at the woman’s plea, unsure of why Alysia’s scars should be a secret. The nature of its existence was curious, he could not think of any reason why she should be scarred that badly, especially for a noble.

“Understood,” Solas whispered, his face growing concerned by those marks on her back. He shook his head lightly, as he turned on his heels to walk out of the room leaving the two sisters’ and their mysterious secret behind him. He walked passed Varric and the group that he was with; they were still drinking and singing something about Andraste and her mabari. Quite the loyal dog, he thought while he made his way into his room.

He lay down on his bed, and tried to push the thoughts out of his head. Whatever secret the sisters had between them was theirs and he had no reason to pry it out of them, he was after all an apostate mage whose time with the Inquisition was temporary. It would be best for him not form any bonds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like Alysia is slightly annoying. Opinions?


	16. Numbers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haven is under attack and Cullen confesses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♫ Numbers by Great Northern

Alysia flipped her hair back, and snarled at the Breach above her; its sickly green glow seemed to envelop her as she walked closer to it. Her head felt dizzy from the acrid smell that seeped out from the Breach but she knew that had to seal it before its cracks grew wider and threatened to swallow everyone around her whole. Before she lifted her left arm up towards the Breach, she nodded at Cassandra who re-assured her that the mages were ready to help her seal it. She was afraid, no doubt, and the alcohol she had from the night before had all but dissipated, she had to do this without ale to calm her anxious self. She slowly angled her hand upwards to face the threat looming above her; she felt the air tingle around her as her arm glowed bright green. She let the mark’s energy surge through her and burst directly towards the Breach, its trails of green light and her arm connected, and she could feel its energy pass back and forth between her and the hole in the sky. When she saw the Breach distorting itself, she knew entirely that she had succeeded.

\----------

She felt a burning sensation throughout her body during the ride back to Haven, she was unsure of why her skin pulsated as if she had doused herself in boiling water. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant but she couldn’t help but wonder if sealing the Breach had caused her body to radiate with heat. Possibly not, she agreed to herself. She couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone, let alone Cassandra about it, she figured that today of all days should be celebrated. Out of all the catastrophic things that had happened to the Inquisition, this was their well-deserved victory. The entire experience had not only left the people of Haven feeling uplifted but it had also left Alysia with a sense of pride and purpose. 

The moment she arrived back to Haven, the overjoyed locals cheered and praised Alysia and her companions for sealing the Breach, some called out to the Maker and praised him for protecting their beloved Herald of Andraste. To show their gratitude, a feast was prepared for all those under the Inquisition, steins of ale were passed around freely to celebrate the joyous occasion. Crowds started to gather around a large bonfire lit by Threnn, who oddly enough was celebrating with everyone else. Soon, the bard from the Tavern started to sing tales and the merriment continued; Alysia sat on a large lock next to her sister, who was busy chattering away with Cassandra, who was unusually loquacious. She sat there and saw the people of Haven enjoying themselves, smiles lit up on their otherwise morbid faces. It was true that it was the ale that made them all the more merrier but for the first time in a long time the people of Haven had something to be happy about. And Alysia would let nothing take this happiness away from them. 

A large crowd gathered around Varric who was sure enough telling an embellished version of the tale about how Alysia sealed the Breach, gasps escaped their lips as the dwarf continued his story, which apparently involved a catapult. Alysia shook her head at the tale and smirked to herself, she thought of how she had to get used to Varric and Cassandra’s impending need of fabricating tales about her. She saw Bull on the other side of the bonfire being surrounded by a group of women who were flaunting themsleves at him, he himself had no issue about this as his arms were wrapped around one of their shoulders. Alysia grinned at Bull who winked back at her, clearly enjoying himself at the expense of Dorian who rolled his eyes at him and walked away into the crowd. Alysia raised her eyebrow at the scene, wondering if whatever Dorian was feeling was anger or jealousy, she shrugged at the thought knowing that it was entirely impossible for Dorian to ever feel jealous towards Bull, or anyone for that matter. 

The night was slowly winding down, and she found herself sitting alone, her gaze lingered absently on the crowd that were singing and dancing; she silently wondered if she had finally found her sense of place. She wondered if she had finally beaten the sickness within her that her family—her father had despised so much. She took in a deep lungful of air and felt relief wash over her at the thought, she enjoyed the sensation of the cold air, and it smelt crisp against the warmth from the bonfire. But a familiar smell hung around her, the biblichor smell reminded her of warm summer days spent in her father’s library, she knew whom the scent belonged to and she welcomed its intrusion. Solas sat beside her and smiled at her. 

“Finally free of your books and dreams?” she asked, staring up at him through her dark lashes. 

“I figured that now is a good time as any to experience the present,” he said, his voice low. He let his eyes linger on hers, and saw a crimson color slowly burn her cheeks. 

Alysia turned her gaze away from him and tilted her head sideways. Comfortable silence filled the atmosphere as the both of them stared absently at the crowd of people.

“I’m glad to see you return unscathed,” he said, his eyes still lingering on the crowd.

Alysia felt her stomach flutter at what he said but more so from his voice, she could feel his fingers slightly touch hers as he sat next to her, she fought the urge to lean in closer to him and ask if it was intentional. 

“Me too,” she replied, she bit her bottom lip and cursed at herself for not coming up with anything clever to say to him. 

She heard him chuckle at her response, surprise that for once her smart mouth was not present in their conversation. 

“Not drinking tonight?” he asked, his entire body angled at her now. 

Alysia’s face lit up into a smile and she placed both her hands up into the air, as if offended. “Well, not after last night,” she laughed, acknowledging that what she did the night before was indeed stupid. “I don’t need liquid courage to enjoy a party, good ser. Do you?”

Solas laughed loudly at her, his entire body vibrated from the sound that was coming deep within his belly. Alysia’s eyes grew wide at his couth self coming undone, this was the first time she had ever heard him laugh and it was a sight to behold and a wonderful sound to listen to. 

Solas covered his mouth with his hand to muffle his laugh when he realized that Alysia was staring at him, her face was shock yet pleased. He held her gaze, her eyes sparkled with awe and her blush was more evident now. 

"I need to ask you something—," before he could finish his sentence, the ringing of a loud bell filled the air. Solas and Alysia both leaped up onto their feet at the same time; she saw a guard from the gates yell out to everyone. Worry replaced her the happiness that she felt just moments ago when she saw the people of Haven scrambling to the gates to see what was happening, she saw Cullen standing by the gates, his body grew tense as a guard spoke to him. Of course something wrong was bound to happen, she thought to herself bitterly.

She raced towards to gates with Solas who cursed something in elvhen under his breath, Cullen’s voice thundered over the gates, calling his men to arms. Blackwall and Dorian came running down at the exact same time, both of them carrying their weapons. 

“Cullen?” Alysia asked, her eyes growing wide with panic. 

“One watchguard reported a massive force making its way through the mountain,” Cullen cried out, his eyes darting towards the horde or people-rather things, with lit torches that painted over the dark mountaintop. 

“Under what banner?” Josephine and Aurelia asked in unison, the both of them were enraged by whoever it was that decided to attack Haven.

“None,” Cullen spoke solemnly.

“None?” Josephine repeated, perplexed at the fact that there were people who were readily attacking them in the open, but more so that they were doing this anonymously.

Alysia felt the burning sensation enveloping her again, she saw Solas’ eyes dart towards her filled with concern. She cursed him for being so intuitive but now was not the time for anyone to be worried about her; they had to save Haven and its people. A loud bang came suddenly from behind the gate, startling everyone. She saw light flickering from under the wooden gate and a frantic yell. 

“I can’t come in unless you open,” it said.

Alysia ignored Cullen’s protest against opening the gate to a stranger, worried that it might be a trap. She knew that whoever it was behind the gate could either save or kill them, but she had to hope to that opening the gate was her best option. She pushed the gates open with the help of Blackwall, and her eyes fell onto a thin boy with an obscenely large hat that was clearly too big for his head, its brim hung low and whatever features of his face Alysia could make out was covered by his blonde hair. His was pulling his knife out of a dead man’s back, the masked warrior had a similar looking mark on the back of his armor to the Venatori she had met in Redcliffe. 

“My name is Cole. I’ve come to warn you. To help. There are people coming here to hurt you,” he said through heavy breaths. “But you already know,” he said, his eyes darting towards the horde of people that were rushing through the mountain. Alysia found his speech to be odd but something in her told her to place her trust in him.

“Who is coming to hurt me?” she asked.

“The Templars—or what they used to be, have come to kill you,” he said, his voice low.

“The Templars? Is this their response from forming an alliance with the mages?” Cullen asked, confused, and furious at them attacking the Inquisition. 

“The Red Templars have sided with the Elder One. He wants you dead. You took his mages from him. There—”, he pointed upwards towards the hill where a monstrous looking person stood next to a man who was much smaller than he was. Alysia recognized the red crystals that jutted out from his skin, his flesh looked somewhat decayed and wrinkly; it was a truly terrifying thing. She saw it turn its face towards the man that was next to him as if to urge him and his troops onward. 

“I know that man, but not the other,” Cullen spoke, his voice filled with betrayal as he looked at the man adorning another armor instead of the Templar’s.

“He has been searching for you,” Cole said, walking towards Alysia. “You stole something from him and now he wants you dead,” he continued, his blue eyes filled with worry. 

Alysia felt the blood drain from her face; she turned her face away from the boy and on to Cullen who was gripping the hilt of his sword tightly. 

“Cullen. Give me a plan. Anything.”

“We have no choice but to fight, lady Trevelyan,” he said while his brows knitted into worry. “Men, to arms! Fortify Haven and fight the advancing forces” he shouted to the people behind him, “Tonight we fight! For ourselves, for the Inquisition, for the Herald!” He raised his sword towards the cold air, and yelled out a rallying cry that echoed around the dark winter night. The soldiers yelled back in reply, their feet scurrying on the snow, activity erupted all around them as Cullen barked orders to his men. 

Alysia eyes darted towards the guards who were readying the trebuchet, the yelled out for someone to keep the advancing forces at bay. She ran towards them and soon after everything around her erupted into a flurry of violence as the Templars started to kill on sight. The large chunk of the horde was compromised of used to be Templars that fought with the viciousness of demons but masquerading around as men. Their shrieks were as inhuman as their skin; they had the same red crystals around the surface of their ash grey skin. Alysia had a hard time trying to keep them down as they were everywhere, they crushed the Inquisition’s forces with little to no effort at all; she couldn’t focus amongst the chaos that was erupting all around her—to make matters worse, a large screech echoed all around the mountainside.

She felt her stomach turn at the sound; her mind reeled from the possibility of what it was. She saw something large and horrifying emerge from the billowy clouds that were rolling in from the mountaintop; her eyes grew wide with panic as it slowly came into view.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she cried out to the ferocious creature whose wings beated loudly. The dragon was large and disgusting looking, its eyes were dark and ominous, threatening to kill everyone in Haven. It flew over the town and destroyed whatever it saw, it rained fire wherever the dragon belched. Alysia saw the town that she had come to love burn right before her eyes and she was powerless to save it against a dragon. She heard a bell ring from inside the town, calling its people to fall back into the chantry. It was the only building capable enough to provide any form of safety for its people but Alysia knew that the stone building would soon come crumbling down especially against such a beast. 

\----------

Alysia finally managed to reach the chantry with her companions, with the help of Blackwall and some guards they managed to seal the door to the chantry with some benches and tables. She tried to look through the rubble in the chantry to find if there was anything she could use to help the wounded. She felt hot tears threatening to form on the side of her eyes as her hands dug through the mess that was the chantry. She was more desolate than shock at how she could help these people, her people from being crushed to death by an angry dragon and its master.

She saw Cullen staring at her, his eyes at a loss of what to do. She knew in her heart that the town would not hold and that most of her forces were dead and what was left of them were gravely wounded. She saw her sister and Solas sitting next to a few dying guards; their words gave them comfort as they slowly slipped away into the darkness. Chancellor Roderick’s bloodied body was lying on the frail boy, he was barely breathing.

“He tried to stop a Templar. The blade went deep. He is going to die,” Cole said in a monotonous voice. 

“What a charming boy,” Chancellor Roderick joked through the blood that he coughed out. 

“The Elder One will come for you. And you will die. He doesn’t care about the people, all he wants is you.”

“But why does her want her?” Cullen asked through gritted teeth.

“I told you. He is very angry at you,” Cole spoke again, his arms firmly wrapped around Chancellor Roderick’s dying body. 

“We need to find a way to save these people. I won’t let them die, Cullen,” Alysia said, her voice shaking with anger.

“Whatever time you have given us has been stolen by the dragon,” he said, his voice shook with worry for the people around him. 

“Yes… there is a way,” Cole whispered to them. “There is something Chancellor Roderick wants to tell you, before he dies.”

Chancellor Roderick explained that there was a secret passage out of Haven; only those who had walked the pilgrims’ path to the Temple used it. Few knew of its existence but he had walked it before and he could show them, but all he needed was a little bit more time to help everyone get out of there alive. 

Alysia knew that she had to buy them some time, some form of diversion for everyone to escape. She locked her eyes on to her sister’s who understood her look right away.

“You will not!” Aurelia’s voice rang out from behind her. “I will not have you die for all these people, Aly!” she said, anger filling her. 

“This is my decision. Not yours. You have saved me many times. Now, it is my turn,” she said while turning away from her sister. “Cullen. Give me one last plan,” she said to him, her eyes trying to hide her worry.

“All we have left is one last trebuchet but I can’t have you risk your life for us,” Cullen said. He felt unpleasant at the thought of Alysia risking her life to save all these people from their inevitable death.

“That is a choice I am willing to make,” she said, her voice filled with determination. She saw Solas looking at her with concern in his eyes, but she had to pull away from his stare to concentrate on her mad plan. 

Cullen and Solas both realized that in this moment that this might be the very last time that they, or anyone would ever see her again. Cullen knew for sure that there was no force on Thedas that could convince her otherwise; she was a stubborn fool, but a brave stubborn fool for the most part.

Alysia knew in her bones that she would die. That her sacrificing herself was the only way to save everyone, and it was the only option. 

“Cullen…” she began, her brain trying to process some form of word to ease his worry. She felt his hazel eyes burn into hers, she was afraid that this would be the last time that she would ever have with the people who had made Haven her home, despite everything.

“You promised me. You promised to help. Save them,” she said, her voice full of determination as she turned on her heel towards the door. Cullen grabbed her by the wrist, as if to whisper one final confession to her. 

“Come back to us. Back to me. Run as fast as you can. Promise me?” he said, his eyes pleading to her through what little words he could muster through this chaotic situation. She smiled warmly at him; grateful for whatever courage his words gave her. She nodded at him and walked out of the door, leaving the people that she loved behind, giving them a fighting chance of surviving the Elder One’s attack.


	17. Into the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alysia fights for her life and she re-discovers an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♫ Into the Fire by Thirteen Senses

Alysia gritted her teeth as she walked out of the door, alone. She could hear her heart pounding in her chest and her stomach churn in fear, but resolve was deep in her bones and it was leading her to her destiny. If she were truly the Herald of Andraste, this would be the moment in proving her worth to herself. 

Her feet steadily moved along the thick snow, the grass around her was wet and splayed red from blood; she counted the bodies lying on the ground in her head as she moved in the shadows, and cursed herself for not being able to save them. Haven was torn asunder, the small cabin that used to be her home now lay in wreckage and what little she had to call this place home was now lost in a pile of rubble and fire. She saw the dragon fly overhead as she moved from a large bush to the next, she was careful to not catch its watchful gaze; all she had to do now was to run as fast as she could to the solitary trebuchet and she hadn’t the faintest idea on how to reach it undetected. She looked up at the dark sky and couldn’t find any sign of the evil creature lurking about; Alysia closed her eyes and took a deep breath in to ready herself for the fastest run she would ever do. She started racing forward with all of her might, her boots crunching on the snow with force; as she was almost nearing the trebuchet she heard the sharp shriek of the dragon flying closer to her. Her heart pounded even faster now, knowing that the dragon was right behind her; she felt her body start to ache and burn up like it did this morning and cursed it for its impeccable timing.

Before she could acknowledge her unknown pain, she saw something explode from the side of her eyes, and her body flew forward and landed heavily on the cold ground. As she tried to move to shake the pain away, she screamed loudly when she felt something pierce through the side of her stomach; hot shards of fire burnt through her armor and pierced through her exposed skin, leaving grotesque marks all over. For a moment the dragon seemed to be toying with her, as if giving her a chance to escape and she took it, but then her body slam firmly onto the ground with a whip of its tail. She groaned in agony when she tried to move her body away from dragon whose teeth were now bared at her; she curled her fingers into a ball, nails digging deep into the palm of her hand to block out the soreness that was surging through her 

Alysia’s head spun with each movement she made, she lay motionless on the ground in pain and fear that was slowly encompassing her. She saw through hazy eyes a tall silhouette walking towards her, she recognized him—it—to be the creature that stood on top of the hill. As it got closer to her, she could see its once human face contorted into something grotesque, red crystals jutted out from its gray skin, its body was frail but not sickly and its face was twisted into anger. It towered over her body, glaring down at her. 

“Did you think you could outrun my pet?” he snarled at her, its voice was deep and grainy, as if all of its previous human self was lost in his ghastly appearance.

Alysia held her breath from the foul smell that was seeping off his decayed skin, it smelt of corruption and blood and it had the unmistakable smell of taint from the blight. 

“The Herald of Andraste, are you?” he asked mockingly. 

 

Alysia didn’t answer him; instead she lay panting on the ground trying to devise a plan to escape from this lunatic. 

“You have stolen what was rightfully mine, Herald,” he said, using her title like it was a slur.

He raised his hand out and with a slight movement from his long fingers her left arm extended itself out to him, and as he motioned his fingers towards himself, her feet dragged involuntary towards him. As he flexed his fingers, her body jerked up into the air and slammed heavily onto the ground again, knocking the air out of her. She screamed out in pain when she felt her back dig deep into a stone on the ground; he extended his fingers out again and continued his unrelenting torture, with each scream that escaped her chapped lips his grin grew more savage and hungry for the sound. 

“Pretender. You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more,” his voice thundered through the cold air.

Alysia felt her head throb as her body slammed once again on to the ground, and back up into the air. 

“What are you?” she breathed through gritted teeth. 

His grin grew more manic at her words and his eyes flashed something sinister. “Know me. Know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One. The will that is Corypheus,” he said furiously. “I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the Empire in person. I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused. No more. I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own. To champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world. Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the Gods, and it was empty!”

Alysia head swum at the words that was being thrown at her, she could not wrap her head around anything he was saying. Was everything that she grew up knowing to be false?

“You don’t frighten me, creature,” she managed through her aching body.

Corypheus laughed a deep and dark laugh at her words, a laugh so sinister that Alysia felt it echo through the darkness. 

“Words mortal often hurl at the darkness. Once they were mine, they are always lies. You will kneel.”

“Whatever you want from me, you will not have it?” she challenged, she had no intention of fighting with it in her condition but she knew that she had to distract her mind from succumbing to her pain, and ultimately unconsciousness.

His eyes narrowed at her and his mouth twitched in ire. 

“You will resist. You will always resist. But it matters not,” he said. His eyes roamed over her hovering body and it fell on to her left hand, on her mark. Alysia felt her palm and her body burn, but this time with more intensity. He motioned her body towards his slender fingers and it wrapped firmly around her neck, causing her to whimper in pain. Her legs flailed around helplessly as she tried to break from his grasp but she knew her attempt was for naught.

“I will ease your suffering and remove what is mine. The process of removing the Anchor beings now,” he said. Through tired eyes Alysia saw him slowly revealing an orb in another hand, as he clutched his fingers around the orb tighter, Alysia felt the mark on her left arm throb in pain, with each pulse the orb lit up in response. Alysia screamed in agony at the pain the was searing through her palm, it felt as though her skin was being ripped off piece by piece, whatever will she demanded from herself to ignore her agony was lost within this moment. 

“Scream more for me, Herald. Sing to me.”

With a twist of his wrist at her mark, Alysia felt more pain surge through her hand—she knew that she was almost at her breaking point. She did not know if she the air that was escaping her lips were yells anymore, all she knew was that everything hurt and she did not know how to make it stop. To make matters worse her right hand was burning and glowing with the same intensity that her left hand did. 

“What is this—thing, meant to do?” she screamed out at him through tears.

“It is meant to bring certainty where there is none. For you, the certainty that I would always come for it.” Alysia could feel his breath hot on her face as he spoke. Before she could summon anymore will to speak back to him, he flung her to the side. Her back impacted heavily into the trebuchet, she felt her left arm and ribs snap in response.

“The anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with you stumbling,” he growled at her. 

Alysia struggled to her feet, and willed her body to ignore the pain that she felt throughout her body. She had no weapons, her armor was tattered, her body was battered, and she had no idea how she was ever going to survive this. Through the corner of her eyes, she saw the glow on her right arm persist, its light had a familiarity to it, and it was something she vaguely remembered knowing as a child. 

 

With each familiarity she recalled from the glow in her hand, it began to spark—the sickness—the shame that her family felt—the reason she was shunned. This sensation was hers, hers alone, it was her sense of purpose that was oppressed and taken away from her. She lifted her right arm slowly in front her and saw her fingers burn bright, and fire danced around the tips of her fingers begging for its release. Her eyes grew wide at its light; she knew with all of her heart that her sickness needed to be free. 

“Tonight you will die. I will not suffer even an unknowing rival.”

She lifted her eyes slowly to face Corypheus, and in the distant she saw a solitary flaming arrow soar high up in the sky. Her heart felt easier now, her people had made it out, and Cullen had save them.”

“Honestly. You really need to shut up,” Alysia spat at him, feeling braver now. She quickly kicked the crank on the trebuchet, and sent the load it bore flying towards the mountainside. 

The boom that came from the impact was deafening, Alysia quickly scrambled out of the way and saw that Corypheus was still standing where he had been with his face twisted into a snarl. He glowered at Alysia who was running towards the Chantry, and with a swift motion of his hand, his dragon exhaled shards of fire to stop her from escaping. Alysia quickly jumped out of the way and let red streams of fire escape her right hand, building a wall of fire, separating her and Corypheus. He glared at Alysia then up at the mountain that was threatening to topple over Haven, and let out a deep yell that was quickly lost in the sound of snow barreling towards them. Knowing that the battle was lost, his dragon swooped down and gathered its master in its claws, it used its large wings to sweep it back up into the air as the great wall of snow swiftly came rumbling down the mountain.

Alysia fought through the intense pain and urged her legs to move faster than it already was, to outrun death that was knocking at her door. Right in front of her she saw a hollowed tunnel, she rushed quickly to it and prayed to the Maker that whatever was beneath it was safer than where she was. Through her fall she heard the snow smash through the wounded land but soon everything around her returned to silence and darkness, and whatever consciousness she begged herself to have was lost. 

\---------

The people of Haven arrived safely through the passageway, and as they heard the dragon—the archdemon to them—shriek, they all turned back to see their home now reduced to nothing but rubble. They saw the archdemon fly off as the mountainside came tumbling down, covering their former home in snow. Everyone gasped and cried out at the wreckage, feeling desolate at the stillness that followed after the avalanche—an eerie silence fell over them when they realized that their precious Herald was lost in the entombed town. 

Aurelia fell to her knees and felt hot tears stream down her cold face, she begged for her sister to come walking out of the rubble—for a movement, for a sound, anything. But nothing came, except for the discomforting sound of the cold winter wind. She felt someone’s hand rest on her shoulder, willing for her to keep going. She looked up and saw Dorian’s face crestfallen but he silently begged her to march to safety. Now was not the time to grief, now was not the time to shrivel up and die in the cold—Alysia had saved everyone’s lives and giving up now would have meant that she her death was in vain.

\----------

 

Her body shook from the intense cold that was slowly seeping into her bones, everything hurt and her eyes couldn’t see much of anything through the dimly lit cave; she didn’t know how far down she had fallen from the hollowed tunnel. She stirred awake slowly, feeling the intensity of her pain rushing in at the same time— giving herself a moment to breathe and asses the situation she forced her body to prop itself onto the cold wall of the cave, the sensation of it on her bruised skin caused her to shiver even more. 

Each intake of breath felt like agony to her, her lungs were on fire and her ribs grinded together each time she moved her chest. She was exhausted mentally and physically but she knew that if she sat in this spot any longer her body would succumb to the cold and any chance of her moving would be nil. She looked up at the hole she fell from and saw nothing but darkness, the only way was out of this mess was forward and even at that choice she did not know if it would be safe, but she had to try rather than die down here, cold and alone. 

She heard wind howling in the distant, and she hoped silently that wherever the sound was coming from it would lead her to safety. Slowly she stood up on her aching legs and moved across the mold filled tunnel feeling the wind grow colder on her body with each step she took; soon she reached the end of the tunnel and was greeted by a vast expanse of. The cold was intense and the blizzard was unforgiving, Alysia felt her eye sting from the snow the was blowing about and her hair blew around her face, blocking her view from anything; she lifted her right arm to her face to cover her eyes and moved steadily along the thick snow.

She saw trails of burnt out campfire along the way and she knew that it was the people of Haven and with any luck she might run into them soon, she hoped. Her body was colder than it was, her fingers were numb, lips were chapped and dry, she couldn’t breathe properly, her lungs burnt with each intake of air but her body felt so, so cold. The snow was up to her knees now, and she saw trails of red in the snow behind her, she wanted to give up but she knew that she had no other choice but to keep moving forward for death was already creeping upon her now. 

\----------

The people settled safely in a clearing that offered them some form of protection from the blizzard, they sat around each other hoping for warmth to come pooling in from the campfire that they had built. Once she knew that the people were safe and their eyes were off her, Aurelia reached into her pack to dress for the trek back to Haven.

“You’re leaving?” Cullen asked, his figure towering over her. Aurelia saw his haggard face grow dejected at his own question; he was hurting as much as she was.

“Of course. I can’t leave my little sister behind,” she said while continuing dressing herself. She will not let him deter her from finding Alysia, no one will.

“I will go with you,” he said, determination and anger in his voice.

Aurelia looked up at him surprised at his resolve, but somewhere within her she was afraid for him to come with her because there was a large possibility that Alysia was lost in the wreckage, and she could not bear to see Cullen break down and become even more doleful than he was. 

“But she might be…”, she stopped when she saw Cullen face grow empty at her words. 

“She might be alive,” another voice spoke, deep and unwavering. It was Bull, Dorian and Sera, they were bundled up, especially Dorian— whose face was mostly covered by a large wool hood. 

“We’re going with you too,” Sera said, her voice growing angrier at the thought of Alysia’s death. 

They group began their slow trek up the mountain; Dorian was the first to curse at the cold, causing Bull to growl at him. They scanned the horizon through the thick snow, hoping for any sign of her. They weren’t far off from the camp when Aurelia saw trickles of red along the snow they were walking on; she picked up the bloodstained snow and prayed to the Maker that it was her sister's. The trail didn't lead them that far off from where they were, it stopped under a large tree and she saw a slight movement under a pile of snow. 

“There!” she cried out to the group who were scanning the area for signs of life. She raced towards the tree, kicking up snow with her rushing legs and panting through the cold. The others came rushing behind her, their lanterns swaying in the air. 

She dug through the thick snow and when she had found her buried underneath it, she was unmoving but her breath was shallow. Snow matted onto her hair, clinging on to her pale face, her lips were cracked and dry, her entire body felt deathly cold. Aurelia lifted Alysia’s limp body up with the help of Cullen and felt her hands grow sticky with each touch, the armor on the side of her waist was torn and soaked with blood, her arms were bruised and tiny cuts filled her exposed skin—she was lucky to still be breathing. They quickly raced back to the camp in fear that she would slip away at any moment, the others followed behind, relief washing momentarily over them. 

Cullen placed her unconscious body on a cot, while Dorian called out to Solas and some healers for aid—who came running into the tent, worry spreading onto his otherwise calm face. Cullen and Dorian both left the tent to give Solas more space; Aurelia stripped her sister off her frozen armor and was careful to not expose her already shivering body to more cold. She felt her sister’s pulse grow weaker as her body shook terribly; a faint light emitted from Solas’ hands as he hovered it over her body—the faint glow danced on her face, casting shadows over it. When he was done, he turned to Aurelia who was tucking the blankets on her shivering sister. 

“Her left arm is broken, as well as a few ribs. A large gash on her stomach, and multiple scars on her body. But nothing life threatening. She will live. She needs plenty of rest and warmth, and something for the pain.” 

He nodded slightly at Aurelia who mouthed thanks to him; he then proceeded to cast a barrier over her tent to block out the cold for entering it. She kissed her sister’s forehead lightly and thanked the Maker in whispers, and stayed by her side. With no immediate danger upon their Herald, the others who came to check on her left for the night, leaving the two sisters to rest. Cullen hesitated for a moment, shuffling back and forth between the tent’s entrance, he did not know if he should visit the sleeping Herald. Something bothered him, but he knew that she was fine but he felt like he needed to be there, to be there until she woke up, to hear her voice again, to know that the Maker had heard his prayer in keeping her safe. 

“We don’t need another person succumbing to the cold,” a voice said from inside the tent. “Come in, before your smirk freezes off, Commander.”

Cullen paused for a moment then entered the tent, he saw Aurelia sitting next to her sister with a warm cloth pressed over her forehead. 

Alysia’s body seemed better now, color slightly returned to her face, her body no longer shook with such ferocity and her breathing was more constant.

“Well, sit,” Aurelia, instructed, dragging another chair beside her with her left leg.

Cullen obeyed and sat promptly next to her, he sat there in silence, not knowing what to say. He started to regret walking into the tent, feeling ill-prepared and slightly out of character.

“Um, so—”, he started.

“I’m sure you didn’t come here to get an update, Commander,” Aurelia said, looking squarely at him. 

“No… No. I didn’t,” he said. Hearing her words out loud made him feel even more stupid for walking in here. 

“…And?”

“I wanted to say sorry,” he managed, letting the words fall off his prideful lips. He truly was sorry, for the way he acted towards her the entire time, for doubting her abilities, and for never giving her enough credit for everything that she had done for the Inquisition. It took an almost comatose Alysia for him to realize how terrible he had been to her, and he hated himself entirely for suggesting that she give her life away to save theirs.

Aurelia chuckled at his apology and shook her head. She pushed an odd hair out of her sister’s face and looked at Cullen whose gaze had fallen onto the ground.

“She’s fine. You’re fine. We’re fine. That’s all that matters,” she said, smiling weakly at him. “Besides, she is a stubborn fool and she knows it. And it’s through her sheer stubbornness that she is alive right now. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“But—,” 

“Not buts’. We’ve all earned a good night’s rest, and I suggest you take it while you can,” she said while resting her head in her hands. “Goodnight, Commander.”

Cullen bit his lower lip and contemplated saying something but decided that tonight wasn’t the best time for it. He got up from his stool and bowed himself out. What Aurelia said was true, tonight was probably going to be the last night that he—they, would ever sleep soundly, for danger was lurking right behind them.


	18. Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas talks about the orb and Alysia finds herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♫ Light by Sleeping at Last

Her body ached with less intensity than it did when she collapsed, she couldn’t recall what happened to her after the darkness consumed her, but the warmth that she was basking in made her feel alive, and that was all it took for her to appreciate her reprieve. She did not know how long she had been out for but judging from the numbness in her toes, she knew that she had been laying here for over half a day, at most. She opened her eyes slowly to inspect her environment; she lay in a dimly lit tent with thick layers of blankets, which only served to make her more uncomfortable than it was originally set out to be. She tried to move her body but the pain that radiated over her stomach only made her wince and groan; she opened her mouth slightly to breathe in some much needed air but all she felt was soreness in her throat that burnt her very lungs.

“Don’t move, your body still needs rest,” Aurelia said gently, she placed her hand lightly on Alysia’s forehead to check her body temperature. Alysia turned her dazed gaze to her sister, confused.

“How did you…? I was walking through the blizzard… and…” she shut her eyes and tried to remember, but nothing came to her head. With each thought process, the pounding in her head grew louder and it made her want to yell out to the soundless foe.

“Shhh,” she said gently to her sister, tucking stray strands of hair out of her face. “We found you collapsed, under a pile of snow not too far outside of camp. I had help from bringing you back from the brink of death,” she said relief in her voice but sorrow in her eyes. “Not that you die easily.”

Alysia laughed at her sister and felt her ribs protest in pain; she placed her good arm over her chest and winced in discomfort. Aurelia’s eyes lingered on Alysia’s bruised body and felt trepidation well inside of her.

“How did you ever survive?” she asked, concern in her eyes.

“Ah…The Elder One, he—I don’t really remember what happened, Lia. Sorry,” she managed, while shuffling her right arm quickly beside her. “Is everyone alright?” she asked, in hopes of changing the tide of the topic.

Aurelia sighed heavily and shook her head at her sister. “Yes. Everyone is fine. I’m more… worried about you, Aly. You were barely breathing when we found you.”

Alysia smiled weakly at her sister and ignored her question entirely by gazing at the side of the tent. She stayed silent and continued to stare blankly at the creases the tent made. Annoyed by the lack of information from her sister, Aurelia rolled her eyes and stood up from her stool and proceeded to exit the tent. “Suit yourself,” she said exasperated before leaving.

Alysia slowly lifted her right arm over her head and gazed at the cuts on her fingers, she remembered what Corypheus had done to her and if he had his way she would be dead by now. But something saved her, something deep within her connected, and saved her from her certain death that night—but she did not know if telling her sister, or anyone would be a good idea. Would they treat her any different than they did now? Would someone take her away to a Circle? Would she be denied freedom as she was back home? She did not know, and that uncertainty only made her more fearful from telling the truth.

\----------

She pulled her hood lower as she strode pass the group of people who were sitting close to Mother Giselle, listening intently to her telling tales about the Maker. Alysia rolled her eyes and wrapped her cloak even tighter around her to conceal her identify as much as she was keeping the cold out; the last thing she needed right now was to be called out as being the harbinger of change. When the singing began, Alysia felt her entire body burn from embarrassment but more so from the fact that everyone was staring directly at her while singing the damnable song, worshiping her as if she was some sort of religious symbol—she never wanted to be the fucking Herald of Andraste but after her ill-fated encounter with Corypheus and her survival, it only fed to the idea that she was who they claimed her to be. She could no longer be at peace with herself, especially with everyone’s eyes falling on her with each movement she made; slowly the fear of not being able to live up to their ideals started to creep in—she needed to be alone, away from everyone. Through the exhaustion and insistent pain in her stomach she made her way out of the camp, she didn’t know how far off she had walked but her feet seemed to stop when the chattering around her all but turned into a hushed hum; the slight silence gave her a minute to recollect herself.

Alysia found herself pleasantly comfortable sitting on a rock near the edge of a cliff, from here the stars above her seemed to glow a lot brighter and the mountains beyond her had a lovely grey hue that danced with the cloud’s movement. It was truly a remarkable sight. It gave her a silent reminder that through all of the bitterness in the world—through her encounter with Corypheous, there were some things worth living for; with each calm intake of breath she felt something build within her. She hadn’t spoken to anyone about what happened to her, sure she told Cassandra and Leliana all there was to know but she left out the parts where he enjoyed watching her writhe in pain and where she was certain about her death and _wanted_ to succumb to it.

Sorrow is a despicable thing—it comes in great waves and smothers us. Alysia had always been a genius at it, she was always immersed in it but in the certainty of death, her grief felt more like fear—fear in being unable to believe anymore and she loved to believe that her pain was purposeful and that everything would eventually get better.

She let out a deep sigh at the thought and shook her head, reminding herself firmly that her rare time alone should be spent with pleasant thoughts instead of ones with demons lingering, threatening to consume her sanity. In between the sounds of the cold wind and howls coming from the mountain peaks, she heard twigs crunch beneath a singular footstep. She turned around to face the person behind her and was pleasantly surprised to see that it was Solas. He was barely covered in any warm clothes, saved for the thick wool wrapped around his neck but his feet were bare as they had always been; she wondered silently how he managed to keep warm through the intense cold. She bowed her head politely and invited him to sit next to her on the rock.

“What brings you all the way out here?” she asked as he sat next to her. She could feel his shoulders slightly touching hers and it sent a tingle down her spine.

“I could ask you the same thing, but I already know the answers to that,” he said while smiling warmly at her.

“And so you came out here to comfort me?” Alysia asked, while wiggling her eyebrows.

Solas chuckled slightly at her. “Not entirely.” She felt his gaze fall on her but it was less critical than everyone else’s at camp, and friendlier. She couldn’t find the courage to face his comforting gaze because she knew that she would fall apart and she couldn’t allow herself to do that—she had to be strong for everyone’s sakes.

“Come,” he finally said into the silence. Solas stood up from the rock and lay his entire body on the cold ground and extended his right arm for Alysia to join him. She eyed him skeptically and then shuddered at the thought of how cold the ground might be. As if he sensed her concern, he casted a blue flame that danced in a ring around them—she raised her eyebrow at him and proceeded to lie on the cold ground beside him.

“So bossy,” she exclaimed while lying her head down on the wet surface, it sent shivers throughout her body and she immediately regretted trusting the elf.

“How is this supposed to be a good idea?” she asked, her brows knitted in annoyance at his idea.

“Hush,” he said calmly. “Look up,” he instructed her. Puzzled, she did as she was told and when she finally did look up, she understood what he meant. Above the puffy clouds resided an entire universe she couldn’t touch but could only see. The sky stretched above her and made her feel so small under all of its glittering lights, everything that she felt now felt minute under its expanse, the night was much bigger than the day and when the sky receded the universe expanded above unknowingly to her. It was an odd feeling, to finally feel and see that the world was a large place, and that the stars above her were alive in their own way, and that they were all watching someone, somewhere. She lifted her arms up to touch the distant stars, she wanted to scoop it all up and let its light sink into her skin, she wanted it to swim inside her blood and become a part of her.

She felt tears prickling on the side of her eyes, threatening to stain her cheeks; Solas lay next to her in silence, his eyes gazing at the stars above him too. Was this what he wanted to tell her? That through this larger than life persona that the people had given her, was she still the same person? That through the passage of time, was she still the same Alysia? The same person as she was when she was ten, when she spent her nights sleeping in Aurelia’s bed to keep to monsters under her bed at bay. When she was sixteen and rebellious but had the time to stop and look at the night sky through the bustle in her life. Chasing a herd of cattle through the estate, stealing cakes from the pantry, reading in her father’s library, sealed off in a locked room; look up—and she was still the same ten year old again under all of these same stars. Her tears began to flow down her face as she could no longer hold herself together, she covered her tear stained face with her arms—she heard Solas clench his fist against the snow, did he feel responsible for making her realize this? No. This was what she needed. This what was she needed to be reminded, that she was the same as everyone else. The only difference was that she was given a mark she did not ask for and in turn that made her someone the people looked up to—someone the people needed as their guide.

After a moment, the tears stopped and the only sound that filled the cliff was of Solas’ breathing and the dance of the wind blowing against them.

“So… what was it that you came here for again?” she asked, breaking the silence between them while wiping her tears. She returned her gaze to Solas to ease the pain she felt growing in her heart.

Solas merely huffed slightly through his nose, and titled his head sideways to face her, he shot her a comforting smile before he spoke, which somehow only made Alysia even more worried at whatever it was he wanted to discuss with her.

“The orb Corypheus carried. The power he used against you. It is elven,” he stopped for a moment to inspect her reaction. Her gaze hardened at his words but never faltering from his face. “Corypheus used the orb to open the Breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave. I do not yet know how Corypheus survived…nor am I certain how people will react when they learn of the orb’s origin,” he added, before lowering his gaze back to the cold ground.

Alysia stared at Solas for a moment, unsure of how to respond to the truth that was being revealed to her.

“Alright. What it is it and how do you know about it?”

“They were foci. Used to channel ancient magics. I have seen such things in the Fade. Old memories of older magic. Corypheus may think it Tevinter. His empire’s magic was built on the bones of my people. Knowing or not, he risks our alliance. I cannot allow it.”

“This whole mess is confusing. I can see how elves might be an easy target,” she said when she saw Solas’ face turn into a scowl. To which his face softened at her words, they weren’t lies after all. Everyone in Thedas knew that elves had the short end of the string and whatever history they could preserve from their former selves had been skewed and no one truly knew what their true history were, not even the Dalish.

“So, what do we do now?” she asked quietly. Ever since the Inquisition was declared reborn, Alysia’s sole purpose was to close the Breach but after the disastrous events that ensued, she no longer knew what she had to do. Corypheus was still alive, she knew that—and him and his followers will not stop until they wreak havoc all over Thedas. But she had neither ideas nor means to stop them. She felt as lost as she had been when she first awoke in the jail cell

“By attacking the Inquisition, Corypheus has changed it. Changed you,” Solas said, his eyes never leaving hers. “Scout to the north. There is a place that waits for a force to hold it. There is a place where the Inquisition can build… grow,” he added and paused momentarily, waiting for his words to register in her head.

“How do you know of this place?” she asked.

Solas eyes fell to ground and swiftly back up at her. He lifted his body off the ground and extended his arm out to her. “Through speaking with spirits in the Fade, they have given me answers to questions I found difficult to place. Come. Lead them as you did. Be their guide.” He smiled warmly at her, with a hint of resolution in his eyes as he waited for her to grab his arm.

Alysia lowered her eyes to the mark on her left hand and pondered for a moment. His words drummed at the back of her head, reminding her that there were so many people who placed their trust in her and now was not the time to be weeping over the past that she could no longer change. She did not choose this life, she did not know what it had in store for her but she knew that she to let go of certainty. This was her life; she had to live it with the willingness to embrace paradoxes. Even if it was exhausting, uncertain, and twisted, but nonetheless, there was something worth fighting for there.

She looked up at him wryly, and grabbed his slender fingers; she intertwined hers with him and somewhere within herself she felt contentment and at ease with his slight touch. He pulled her off the snow and chuckled at how her face seemed to grow more blithe as she steadied herself on the ground. Unwillingly, she parted her hand from his and they both walked silently back to the camp, with resolution running through her veins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit difficult to write, for obvious reasons. But I hope you enjoyed it :)


	19. Find a Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen suffers from withdrawals and Solas is ambivalent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♫ Find a Place by Iko

Cullen watched her climb atop a steep crag to get a better view of where they were heading—he saw how Solas extended his hand out to her from above so she could climb up even higher. The friendly gesture made him irritable, more so than it should have—Cullen blamed his peculiar anger on the cold and from the long walk they had been on since the break of day. His boots crunched heavily against the thick snow, the sound echoed quietly in his head like a prayer, as if his mind needed it when it was in between the border of salvation and insanity. His thoughts were muddled by his lack of sleep but more so from lyrium—he missed it. He was not an addict, or so he would like to think of himself of not being one. Whenever he took lyrium he knew that it wasn’t for fun, it wasn’t because it made him a better person but it was his coping mechanism that slowly became part of his routine, for a very long time. It helped him sleep. Helped him calm his nerves. Helped him wake up from frightful dreams that lay dormant.The days of him being able to go to sleep, to relax, to even be himself was long gone with the absence of lyrium and without it, his pain grew wider and wider, threatening to rip him apart from the inside out. His head throbbed from its absence in his life, he had lost count of the days he had stopped taking it—he’d rather not know. He heard someone call out to him in the distance but his eyes were too tired to strain themselves against the morning sun.

“Cullen,” she yelled out again.

He shut his eyes tighter to block out the consistent yell of his name, aggravation growing deep inside him.

“Cullen,” the voice called out, closer now.

“What,” he said through his anger, and before he could bite his tongue on his response to whoever it was that was calling out to him.

“Are… you alright?” she asked. Offended by his snide. “I saw you..”, she stopped mid-sentence.

He immediately regretted letting his dark thoughts cloud him when he saw Cassandra’s face scrunched up into worry.

“Maker. Cassandra. I am so sorry. I was just—”, but his words left him when he saw her staring squarely at him.

“It’s the lyrium, isn’t it? You should’ve told me,” Cassandra said to him, her words sounded half judgmental and the other half filled with concern.

“I can’t… Cassandra. I will be all right. It’s part of the healing—I am a work in progress,” he said, sorrow in his voice as he slowly came to terms with his withdrawals. They were getting worse and Maker only knew how long he had until it swallowed him whole.

“Cullen. I can’t tell you if you should stop or continue this madness. But if you ever need me, I will be right here,” she said quietly now when she saw Dorian and Sera passing by. She nodded at the both of them who stared at each other for a moment and snickered while walking away. The Seeker rolled her eyes and the two, ignoring whatever it was that humoured them.

“Thank you. But I will be fine,” he said to her, more so to himself, in reassurance that he would truly be free from the demons that plagued his mind.

\----------

She climbed even higher now as if she was trying to reach the sky above her. She leaped from the ridge she was on to another rock, by the way she moved one would not have guessed that just a few days ago she was badly wounded and could barely walk without wincing in pain.

She watched Solas pace in front of her, leading the way—they were far ahead from the rest of the group. They hadn’t spoken ever since the poignant night they shared under the stars. For one, Alysia was too embarrassed to say anything to him and Solas on the other hand couldn’t find the words to express how guilty he felt for making her cry like she did. So they both settled for silence and the slight touch their fingers shared when he led her towards the fortress he spoke of.

He noticed how her cheeks grew pink from the trek and how little clouds danced around her head every time she huffed. He couldn’t help but smile slightly from the way she moved towards the top of the crag, for the life of him he did not know why or what it was, but something within her slipped out that night—but it was truly beautiful. But nothing could compare to the awe in her azure eyes that glittered from staring at something below her.

Her eyes grew wide from the sight that was before her; it was a large fortress that towered towards the sky. It was truly an impressive sight but more so from the fact that it sat atop a mountain peak; it looked more ancient that any bones that lay under its soil. The mist that rolled in from the south covered the base of the castle, making it seem more like a sculpture of nature rather than a bastion of protection for her people.

Solas felt his breath leave his lungs the moment he saw her face light up—her eyes danced with curiosity, a soft smile curved up on her lips and Solas felt his stomach drop a little. Her entire being seemed to bloom, like flowers in a desert—a rare sight. And it left him with an inexplicable pain in the pit of his stomach. It was the kind of feeling that left him vulnerable and wanting more until it filled him up entirely.

Alysia leaped forward into his arms, she felt her cheek brush against his sending warmth throughout her body. She wrapped her arms around his neck and felt Solas’ knees falter from the sudden embrace. Her half laugh filled the quiet mountain, and it echoed against the howling wind; Solas felt its sound reverberate within him, sending wonderful chills down his spine.

“Solas, this is wonderful! It’s beautiful. Thank you!” she said, pulling away from the embrace.

“You’re welcome,” he said, faltering with his words when his eyes met hers. She turned her gaze away from him to feast on Skyhold once more, Solas was true to his word, this was a truly beautiful place and it would be their new home.

“I must tell the others,” she exclaimed, leaving Solas on top of the ridge. He felt his lungs inflate with the onrush of the scenery and how her figure freely moved, fading amongst the thick trees and it was during that moment he believed that the moon truly resided in the lining of her skin.

She was so beautiful, but she was also human.

\----------

Alysia rushed through the cold, and felt her skin crawl with excitement, eager to tell her people of Skyhold. The air smelt crisp and it was as delicious as nectar was to the tongue, the greyness around her crawled along the trees and outlined each twig and branch—she felt its delicate harmony dance around her.

She saw Aurelia and Vivienne walking together whilst talking, they seemed to be deep in conversation but Alysia could not contain her excitement, she had to tell them about Skyhold. After all, Skyhold was magnificent and it was their salvation after losing their previous home.

Alysia raced towards her sister and without thinking, she leaped onto her sister and braced herself for the impact. With a grunt escaping Aurelia’s lips, she and her sister tumbled onto the snow; Vivienne stood beside the pair, gawking at them, and when she noticed Alysia laughing in between her heavy breathing, her lips curled upwards into a smile

“Darling, where's the fire?” Vivienne asked, her lush voice filling the air.

Alysia turned her gaze to the mage and smiled widely, then back to her sister again whose eyebrows were knitted at her; she huffed and pushed her sister off her body, cursing severely at her in the process.

“What is it this time?” she spat, as she stood up and dusted the snow off her back.

Alysia cocked her eyebrow at her sister, and stared at her; her grin grew wide and mischievous. Aurelia scowled in response and waited for an answer from her sister.

“We found it. Solas and I found it,” she exclaimed. She pushed herself off the ground and grabbed her puzzled looking sister by the arm, and pulled her towards Skyhold; eager to savour the moment her sister loses her composure at the beauty of it. Her sister may be many things, but her love for ancient things and beings were unsurpassable; Alysia found it to be a very endearing qulity, sometimes.

“You’re walking too fast. Slow down,” Aurelia hissed in between breathes. But instead of slowing down, Alysia pulled her arm even harder now, picking up speed. She couldn’t recall the last time she was so excited about something—she felt like a child, giddy from eating too much candy but at the same time immensely blissful.

Before the two sister’s could climb up the crag, they were both startled by the sound of a yell coming directly behind them. The two sister’s stared wide-eyed at each other, confused at what was happening. Alysia frowned at her sister and quickly rushed back, hoping that another disaster did not strike again—not now, she said to herself. Not before they were safe in Skyhold.

She arrived to a crowd of people surrounding something, or rather someone. She couldn’t see much around them, and the only thing she could hear through the chattering was Cassandra’s voice yelling for the Herald. She began pushing her way through the crowd to get a better look of what was happening, most of the people moved out the way when the realized that it was their Herald.

When she finally took in the scene, she saw Cullen bent over on his knee, breathing heavily and Cassandra’s arms were wrapped around the Commander’s shoulders, providing his limp body support from some invisible pain. His face was different from what it normally was—he looked terrified, and he was sweating heavily and mumbling words about the Maker. The man looked positively mad.

“What happened to him?” Alysia asked, joining the both of them on the snow.

“Cullen he—”, before Cassandra could finish his sentence, Cullen growled and shook his head vehemently at her.

“Don’t say another word, Seeker,” he spat. His body shook heavily and Alysia was unsure if it was from the cold, or if he was truly in pain.

“In any case, someone help him up and bring him to Skyhold. I will lead the way,” Alysia instructed.

The soldiers nodded and carried the delirious man off the snow, some were gawking at him, faces too confused or rather astonished to see their once stoic Commander reduced to nothing but a raving lunatic. Alysia on the other hand felt immense sorrow at his writhing body, she recognized that fear stricken face, one she had worn a thousand times over and over again.

\---------

Cullen awoke in a bricked room, and his eyes stared at the large hole in the roof, puzzled, he wondered silently how he felt so warm when the cold from the outside was seeping in from it. The searing pain that had been tearing his head apart was no longer there and he felt like he could think clearly again. His eyes felt tired and his body was groggy, he turned his head slowly to the side and noticed that he wasn’t alone.

A candle burned on a bedside table, and its light danced against a sleeping Alysia, who was sitting on a chair next to his bed while her head lay next to his arm. Her fingers were gently wrapped around his and her sleeping face was turned towards him—her breathing was shallow as if she was in a deep slumber, one she had been needing ever since Haven was entombed. The wavering light danced off her bronze skin, and even in the dim room, she looked so beautiful. Cullen noticed the way her snowy hair fell over her face and how her lips twitched slightly when she breathed. He traced the outline of her face with his eyes, committing her beauty to his memory; he longed to touch her and bury his face in her thick hair, but he suppressed the urge and sighed at his unannounced feelings for the foolhardy woman. He never meant to feel this way for her, and he never expected himself to, after all she was the woman who always roused his anger and always made it seem that he was being unreasonable whenever he disagreed with her actions.

He rubbed his calloused fingers over the top of her hand, which was enough to stir her. Dazedly, she blinked her eyes and let out a loud yawn—one which made Cullen chuckle. She turned her face towards the Commander, confused, and then a warm smile spread across her face when she saw that he was awake, and well.

“Cullen…” she whispered his name; she squeezed his hand gently and nuzzled softly into his ungloved hand. His hand felt unusually softer than she had expected them to be, although calloused they were.

“For a moment there I thought we lost you,” she said, sorrow filling her voice.

“Hera—Alysia. I’m sorry. I didn’t expect for this to happen,” he hung his head low as he murmured to her, guilt searing through his body as he spoke.

He never wanted her, or anyone to see him like that. He never wanted anyone to see a man who had been so thoroughly and irreparably broken. All he wanted was to walk around this world, with his wounds safely hidden and he had been doing that ever since he gave up lyrium but the absence of it invaded his clarity and made him feel destructive. He didn’t want to wake up anymore; he just wanted to sleep a long and intense slumber. Or to maybe wake up with amnesia. He wanted to bash his head into a wall, something, anything to help him get rid of these thoughts, the dark whispers in his head.

She cupped her hands on his cheeks, turning his head towards her; Cullen cast his gaze towards the sheets, he feared that if he did look directly into her eyes her would further come undone. Slowly, she coaxed him to face her by rubbing his cheeks with her thumbs in a circular motion, the feeling made his stomach lurch, but in a pleasant way; and whatever dark thoughts that clouded his head started to hush themselves, turning into a light murmur.

Alysia smiled warmly at Cullen and tried to say something clever, but the lump in her throat made her feel as though there were no words in all of Thedas that could ease the Commander’s pain. So instead she settled for a slight kiss on his knuckles, which made Cullen exhale in surprise.

“We’ll get through this together, Cullen,” she said, staring deeply into his eyes. “I know that doesn’t mean much, but I sort of know what it feels like. To feel as though you’ve lost your place—your entire being, in this universe. I’m not going to pretend that I do know what you’re going through entirely, and I know people will say that it “does get better”, but sometimes it doesn’t. And that’s okay. Because this pain you feel, this dissonance—it’s yours," she said while placing her hand over his heart.

"It’s hard to put sadness into perspective, and to feel something this deeply is not romantic, and it is definitely not beautiful—but to be able to feel it at all, to acknowledge it, it takes courage,” she continued.

The Commander eyed her briefly and nodded slowly, his heartbeat growing more rapid at her long gaze. He gradually felt his body relax at her words, he placed his shaking hands over Alysia’s, and gently squeezed them, reassuring her that he felt better and that her presence helped him immensely.

“That means… everything,” he whispered to her.

In realizing his unwarranted admission, Cullen straightened his back and quickly removed his hands from her grasp, which in turn made Alysia apologize for being so forward.

She cleared her throat, feeling slightly uncomfortable at the heavy atmosphere in the room.

“Well, you should get some rest Commander. I’ll see you again once you’re feeling much better,” she said as she stood up from the chair.

She walked briskly towards the door and bowed herself out, shutting the door loudly behind her. She did not know if she should have told him, or rather lectured him about the ominous feelings he had, but she couldn’t let Cullen waste away. She knew that in this hostile and disgusting world, one had to just keep moving—and doing that required a lot of nerve, one she knew Cullen had, but lost. And she would never let him disappear to an invisible foe that did not deserve his time, in this world or the next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter took WAY longer than it should've. Sorry on my behalf. But yes, hope you enjoy it :)
> 
> P/S: Writing a morose Cullen was honestly difficult. I hope I did his withdrawals justice.


	20. Fresh Pair of Eyes-Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Alysia discovers a strange book and Solas façade is fading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♫ Fresh Pair of Eyes by Brooke Waggoner

Walking into Skyhold was like walking into a dream, one that was long forgotten. The stones that Skyhold was built upon were ancient, the magnitude of its abandoned history could be found in the intricate carvings that some of the stonewalls had. Some parts of the fortress reeked of battle and decay—what was once a bridge that connected the main building to the battlements was reduce to nothing but a pile of rubble, but the builders reassured Alysia that given a few weeks Skyhold should be fixed. Alysia lightly strode across the foyer, marveling the fortress’ beauty—although ancient, Skyhold was just as magnificent on the inside as it was on the outside, if not even more. She recalled Solas saying a few days ago how it might have been an old elven fortress to her sister Aurelia who was gleefully inspecting ever surface of the fortress; but over the years of its abandonment and its numerous owners, it was impossible to determine who truly built or owned it.

Alysia walked pass someone who seemed to be the new quartermaster near the drawbridge who was stock tacking near a group of soldiers who were unloading the carts they pulled from Haven. Odd at the sudden departure of Threnn, she wondered who the new quartermaster was. She ignored her sudden impulse of wanting to ask the lad about Threnn, there was much to see around Skyhold and Threnn’s whereabouts could most definitely wait. Alysia continued her walk around Skyhold, greeting several people as she made her way to the battlements—she stood atop it and stared at the mountains before her, she found it rather strange that in comparison the sheer white cliffs and unrelenting cold they had trekked from, the inside of Skyhold was oddly calming, despite it being built a top of a mountain. The air was pleasantly cold, and for some bizarre reason lush patches of grass filled the land—there was a small courtyard of what seemed to be a garden that was completely overgrown by weeds and rare flowers; Alysia circled the entire courtyard and committed to memory to rebuild it back to its former glory—one she would love to spend her mornings in. She continued her walk and made her way into the lower castle, a door just before Josephine’s study led her into a strange room of odd pillars with lit torches. Thick cobwebs filled the corners of the room, and wisps of webbing hanging off what seemed to be dwarven statues wavered slightly against a wind one could barely feel. Alysia walked closer towards one of the dwarven statue on her right, and traced her fingers along its dusty stone, marveling at its craftsmanship. She stood there silent for a moment, intently studying the statue and wondered if there was slight possibility of Skyhold housing elves as well as dwarves during its time.

She shook her head at the thought, slightly annoyed at the fact that with even more discoveries she made of the stronghold in the past few days, she was nowhere close in figuring out who Skyhold’s previous occupants were. Alysia looked around the room in hopes of finding more of its secrets—towards one of the statues stood an ajar door, curious as to where it led, she walked towards the common looking wooden door and pushed it open. The room smelt strange but she caught the unmistakable whiff of dust and something redolent. . Unlike the torched lit flagstone common that she had walked through, this room grew darker towards its farthest reaches and was filled with an unnatural shade. She tried to strain her vision against the darkness but she couldn't make heads nor tails of what lay in the room, determined to examine the room Alysia grabbed on of the lit torches on one of the pillars and brought it into the room with her.

The dim light emitting from her torch illuminated the tiny room that was presumably an old study—it housed numerous books, most of which titles were too timeworn to cipher. Alysia pulled one of the dust covered books out of its shelf and propped herself against the cold ground, she flipped its pages carefully, trying her best not to tear its already crumbling pages. She recognized immediately that it was written in Elvish but its words were too old for her or anyone to understand, not that she even knew how to read or speak it. She flipped the pages randomly and found it stopping on an image of a wolf with a short passage underneath it—perplexed by the drawing, Alysia felt herself being oddly drawn to it. She traced her index finger lightly against its outline, she was entranced by the darkness the creature had in its eyes, the jagged edges it had around its furs, and the slight hint of remorse the proud creature had on its face; but before she could be even more consumed by it she heard a decrepitating sound coming from deep within the room. Alysia quickly jumped to her feet, and dropped her book accidentally on the floor in the process. She edged her torch towards the source of the sound, hoping for dear life that it was not a giant spider, if there was one thing she hated it was those ugly eight legged creatures, even the little ones were disgusting to her. But to her happiness, there was no ugly creature at the end of the room but instead there stood a slim figure against one of the bookshelves, it was clothed in brown furs, its right hand rested on the side of the bookcase, and it was nose deep within one of the books.

“S-Solas?” Alysia stammered to the figure, who turned to her routinely upon the name.

“Alysia,” he exclaimed, slamming the book shut instinctively as he spoke and placing it back into its shelf.

She sighed and relaxed her body and smiled widely at the elf who reciprocated by smiling back at her while gracefully walking down the short flight of stairs that separated them.

“What are you doing down here?” he asked while cocking his eyebrow. Before she could answer him, she glanced quickly at the shelf he was standing at earlier and wondered silently what book he was reading. Alysia looked back at Solas who was staring at her earnestly as if waiting for an answer.

“I could ask you the same thing, Solas,” she joked, while bending down to pick up the book she was reading off the floor. Ignoring the slight huff that escaped his lips, Alysia grazed her index finger lightly along the spine of the book; she contemplated for a moment and then extended the book out to him.

“You speak Elvish.”

“Is that a question or a factual statement?” Solas asked, smirking at her.

“You know what I mean, Solas,”she said, lingering on the last letter in his name. “Can you read this?” she asked, as she flipped to the page she found the image of the wolf on. She found it a little strange that she remembered the exact page it was on, she looked up at Solas who was peering at her. She ignored whatever it was that he was thinking of her and pointed her finger at the short extract on the page and for a moment Alysia swore she heard Solas sigh deeply, but she couldn’t quite discern if he did in fact sigh at her question due to the darkness, but she took whatever expression the dim light illuminated on his face as a resounding yes. She stared at him for a moment and waited for him to speak with the book still extended out to him.

“It is an image of Fen’Harel,” he said casually.

“Who?” she asked, confused. For the life of her she did not know why she was so transfixed on this Fen’Harel. She had never studied nor took an interest about anything concerning the Dalish and their Elven Gods, but something about its image resonated within her. And it was a desire had to be fed.

Solas shut his eyes for a second and twisted the chain wolf tooth necklace on his neck around his finger; he then opened his eyes and smiled warmly at her.

“There is not much that is known about Fen’Harel. The most common tale states that he was a trickster. They said that he plotted the betrayal of the Gods and caused the fall of Arlathan, a great city where ancient elves would travel to.”

He paused for a moment to look at Alysia who was leaning against the bookshelf, listening intently to his tale.

“But now, the city is lost. As is Elvhenan. The place where the civilization of elves began,” he continued. Solas’ eyes grew doleful at his words, which prompted Alysia to pull the book away immediately from his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to him. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Solas looked at her, surprised at her sudden apology.

“You do not have to be sorry, my friend. You were merely curious,” he said, returning his warm gaze back to her.

She hung her head low at the regard he showed her and nodded her head in understanding at him; she felt entirely guilty for making him upset, more so because he had been nothing but kind towards her—lest she forget Skyhold was his idea. Her eyes grew wide for a moment, from an idea forming in her head; Alysia quickly returned her gaze to Solas who looked puzzled at her sudden excitement.

“Teach me,” she said earnestly.

“Teach… you?” he asked, confused.

“Yes. Teach me how to speak your language,” she continued, her eyes growing wider at what she just said.

She didn’t know if what she said was polite or downright insulting—but whatever expression Solas had right now was definitely much more pleasant than the earlier one. _So, he’s not insulted_ , she assured silently to herself. But somehow, she knew that he looked displeased at her idea. _Are humans even allowed to speak Elvish?_ She swore she heard Josephine attempt to speak it to Rhoswen the other day. Maybe she should’ve asked Rhoswen instead of Solas. But, he was clearly more well versed, or she thought he would be. The more she tried to reason with herself, the more she realized how stupid her idea was.

Before Solas could open his mouth to reply, Alysia quickly lowered her gaze back to the floor, and waited for him to reject her harshly. She bit her lower lip and cursed herself for thinking up something so stupid.

“Of course,” he whispered.

“I knew it,” she exclaimed, while slapping her forehead with her right hand. “I am so sorry, Solas. I knew I shouldn’t have asked, it was a stupid, stupid, idea. Please don’t think ill of me. Will you forgive me for being—”, before she continue speaking, Solas placed his index finger on her lips, prompting Alysia to stop speaking. The sensation of his skin against her soft lips made her feel safe, for some odd reason. And she never wanted the warmth of his skin against hers to leave.

“I said, of course,” he said, smiling wryly back at the downcast woman.

“Wait, what?” Alysia asked, staring back at the elf. “You want to… teach me?” she confirmed.

“Yes.”

“Your language and culture?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Are you certain?

“Yes. And if you ask me another question, I will change my mind and most definitely have ill thoughts of you,” he said, shaking his head in amusement.

Alysia sighed and grew blithe at his consent. “Don’t you dare change your mind,” she joked, swatting him playfully on his chest. “Come on, we should leave this musty place. My skin is dying for some sun.”

Before she could turn around to face the door, Solas grabbed her tiny hands and folded his slender fingers over hers.

“Thank you,” he said earnestly, while beaming at her.

“You’re welcome,” she said, to the elf whose face suddenly grew despondent. Confused, at the change in atmosphere, Alysia stood there silently, with her hand still firmly wrapped in his. Solas gripped her hand even tighter and traced the tips of her fingers with his, and looked at her with a fixed expression.

“There is magic here,” he said, his tone serious.

Before Alysia could ask what he meant by that, he quickly let go of her hand and proceeded to walk out of the old library, leaving the confused Herald in half darkness. Alysia placed the hand that Solas held against her chest, and clenched it while wondering silently at what he meant. Was he talking about Skyhold—or was he possibly talking about her hidden self. She knew that Solas was clever, and he would eventually find out—would he think any less of her? She didn’t want to find out the answer to that, she couldn’t bear bringing more sadness to the already downcast man. She wondered why someone with such a beautiful smile had such sad eyes. He was the most stunning creature she had ever seen, and it wasn’t even in the way the lines on the sides of his eyes crinkled when he smiled, or when he blows silently out of his mouth when he was reading, or when the softness of his voice reached the darkest depths of herself but it was everything that made him Solas. He was everything she wanted to be—clever, eloquent, skilled in battle and more importantly, selfless. Every time she looked at Solas, she always saw a hint of a pained expression on his face, and it was the kind of sadness that had no tears, nor screams. It was the kind where one wandered back into the world to offer it every knowledge and love they had only to let it pass them by, alone.

Alysia sighed loudly and shut the door behind her, her chest constricted from the thought of Solas’ hidden agony and from her people inevitably finding out that she was a mage. Her people trusted her, she knew that much, but would they still trust her if they knew that their precious Herald was a mage, and an untrained one at that. She rested her head against one of the stone pillars and shut her eyes; there was far too much to think about but she did not know which matter was more important nor did she know how to fix each one of them. The more she tried to unknot her already jumbled thoughts, the more she felt as though the weight that the world placed on her might actually crush her.

Her moment of peace was short-lived when she the sounds of rushed footsteps dashing across the chamber of pillars. Alysia removed her head from the pillar she was resting her head when she heard her title being called out to her. Cringing, she scowled at the familiar voice whose body was sweating from an apparently long run.

“Herald,” it called out. “I’ve—I’ve been searching everywhere for you. Sister Leliana has asked for you,” it continued, catching its breath as it spoke.

“Rhoswen. Remember what we spoke of in Haven? I hope the tiring trek did not affect your memory of knowing my name?” she said in jest, arms crossed to get her point across.

“Ah—yes. Forgive me. But—,” Rhoswen stammered.

“You promised. I’ll hold you to it until the day I die,” Alysia said, smiling at the meek elf who nodded in agreement, her face somehow grew grave at the Herald’s words.

Ignoring the expression on the elf face, Alysia returned to the conversation that they were having. “So you said that Leliana was looking for me?”

“Yes. She has asked for you to meet her in the courtyard.”

“The courtyard? Right. Thank you,” Alysia said while waving her hand goodbye to the elf who curtsied.

Alysia did a double take at the elf as she was leaving, and found it rather peculiar that Rhoswen; someone she was growing rather close to was acting formal out of the blue. She shook her head in annoyance at the fact that when she finally changed the elf’s constant politeness towards her, it all but returned when they arrived at Skyhold.

 _Would she ever catch a break_ , she wondered to herself as she made her way out of the strange room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been forever since my last update and it honestly feels like a filler chapter (my bad!). Regular updates should pick up soon? (hopefully). Anywho, hope you enjoy this chapter!


	21. Last Forever-Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We briefly meet Jim and the Inquisitor is chosen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♫ Last Forever by Thirteen Senses
> 
> This chapter coincides with the previous chapter.

The elf carried the remaining boxes of diplomatic letters into the Ambassador’s study, and placed it next to the fireplace. Rhoswen stared at the pile of papers that filled the Antivan’s desk, they had barely moved into the keep and already the room was in a mess; Rhoswen shook her head and straightened her back to face the Ambassador who was busy sifting through the pile, she tossed some of them into the fire and others were left buried at the bottom of the box, or rather stuffed unceremoniously into one.

“Is there anything else you would like me to do, Lady Ambassador?” she asked.

Josephine chewed on the tip of her thumb and scanned the room, looking for any untouched pile that had been forgotten; through the mess that had been left on the floor and her desk, Josephine managed to find an unopened box sitting precariously on the edge of her table. The outer layer of the box was filled with a rich looking leather, lined with red and gold fabric, it looked as though it was filled with treasures of some kind- but Rhoswen knew that on the Ambassador's behalf it could be dark secrets.

Josephine was a woman of many talents, few were questionable but she knew how to get the work done without it's trail leading back to her or the Inquisition. She knew how to make an entire empire crumble with a twirl of her finger and maybe smiling flirtatiously and the right man or woman; it is talents like that most people found endearing but also unnerving—if you were on the loosing end of her ploy that is.

“Yes. Could you possibly deliver that to Sister Leliana?” she said, her thick Antivan accent filling the room.

“Of course, my lady. Would that be all?”Rhoswen asked as she picked the box up from the table.

“Hm—maybe—No. Yes, that would be all,”Josephine said as she returned her attention to the pile of papers that she was chucking into the fire.

“Understood,” the elf replied and ushered herself out of the room. Rhoswen walked towards the tower, passing Solas on her way to the rookery, who was fast asleep on a chair. He seemed to be in a peaceful slumber but Rhoswen found the position that he was sleeping on the be rather uncomfortable. Ignoring the elf, she shook the box lightly as she made her way up the stairs and wondered what was inside of it. It was too light for precious stones to be in and it was a little heavy for there to be a missive, but if it was a missive, why would it even be in a box, she pondered to herself. Whatever it was, it was clearly important, and she she knew that one shouldn’t pry into the Ambassador’s and the Spymaster’s business. Not if you ever want to get out unscathed.

Rhoswen finally made it up the stairs, panting as her foot landed on to the stone floor; she grumbled inaudibly to herself on the obscene amount of steps she had to walk to speak to the Spymaster—not that she counted. She walked around the rookery to look for the Sister and pinched her nose from the strong odor that came off the caged birds, they didn’t particularly smell bad but Rhoswen never had much love for rooks, they were much to ugly for her taste—sky rats she called them, to herself anyways.

She saw one of the Sister’s men placing one of the birds back into its cage and made her way to him. Most of his head was covered by a large green hood and an odd looking helmet, but a light speckle of stubbles grew around his chin area and his eyes were light blue hue—from whatever feature Rhoswen could pick up, he did look a little handsome.

“Ser,” she called out to him.

The man’s shoulders jumped slightly at the title and he titled his head slightly towards the elf.

“Not a ser, m’lady. The name’s Jim,” he said, his loud voice thundering in the tiny tower.

“Ah, pardon me. Is Sister Leliana around? I’ve been asked to deliver this box to her,” Rhoswen said, smiling internally when she picked up his Fereldan accent when the man spoke.

“Sister Nightingale isn’t here. She’s with the Commander and the Lady Seeker in his office. Might have better luck looking for her in the Commander’s study.”

“Right. Thank you,” she said, nodding courteously at him. Before she could turn around to walk towards Cullen’s study, she called out to the guard again who was now placing the rather large cage on a hook nailed to the ceiling.

“Do you possibly know where the Commander’s study is?” she asked, nails lightly scratching the surface of the box as she spoke.

“Yes, m’lady. It’s on the other side of the stronghold. The top of the battlements. To the right of the tavern. If you get lost, ask one of the guardsmen on the battlements. They will lead you there.”

“Thank you,” she said as she made her way towards the other side of Skyhold.

Jim smiled at her mildly and nodded at her and got right back to his work as soon as the elf left.

\---------

Cullen cleared his throat loudly as the two women continued bickering, prompting them to stop immediately and turn to him. They had both been at it since their secretive meeting stared—he half wished that Josephine were here, she could have diplomatically won her way into a decision that he agreed with, probably. He knew why they were at odds with him, both wanted Alysia to lead the Inquisition, but he could not agree with that decision. She had already given up so much for the Inquisition; he couldn’t expect her to continue leading them, especially with a proper title to her name. But he knew that she wouldn’t refuse, she would give in until it hurts, and that was what scared him the most. She would be her own undoing but it was also her most endearing quality—that made her entirely beautiful. Cullen knew that people like her do not just happen, the most beautiful people are those who have known struggle, defeat and suffering and despite it all found their way back. And it is through their loss that fills them up entirely with empathy and a deep understanding of selflessness.

“She is our best shot,” Cassandra pleaded to the Commander, who frowned at her words.

“Cullen, you must understand why we are so desperate in choosing her. Even Josephine agrees that she is best suited for this,” Leliana said.

“I know. I know that she is right for this. But there has to be someone else—what about Aurelia?” he asked, to which Leliana made a chocking sound. He knew that Aurelia was not the person that the Inquisition needed. Yes she was diplomatic, fearless and above all loved by many and was the face of the Trevelyans. But in all of her goodness, she was no leader.

“Cullen, Alysia was made for this. She is the Inquisitor. No one else can—“, Leliana’s speech was cut short when she turned towards the door. She placed her finger to her lips and shot a look to the other two advisors to be silent. They both looked at her with a worried expression on their face but complied.

“Someone’s listening…” she said under her breath. Trailing on her words, Leliana quickly pushed the door open and pinned whoever it was that was behind the door onto the bricked wall. A squeak escaped the eavesdropper’s mouth, guilt seeping through its wide eyes and face as white as a sheet.

“Alysia’s… help?” Leliana asked confused, she loosened her grip on the elf who was breathing heavily from the sudden impact on her slender neck. She placed her fingers over the spot Leliana’s arm semi-choked her and shuddered at the Spymaster’s strength.

Rhoswen knew that she had been found out and with all of her good intentions she had succumbed into her curiosity and found herself finding out something that she shouldn’t have.

“Ah—,” the elf tried to make an excuse for her sudden interruption; she knew she had been caught in eavesdropping on a conversation she had no place in.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Her head hung low as she spoke, anxiety rising when she could feel all of their eyes on her. Of all the people to be in here, it had to be the three scariest advisors out of the four, she wished dearly that lady Josephine or maybe Aurelia was here to help her get out of this nasty situation. She knew that what she did was out of place and she was nothing more than a lowly servant—but Alysia—no, the Inquisitor, speaks to her as though they were friends. But even so, the advisors were leagues above her and she only found her way into this conversation because she had to deliver a box.

 _Right, the box._ Rhoswen extended her right hand toward Leliana and presented the box to her.

“The lady Ambassador asked me to deliver this to you,” she said to the Spymaster who had a mild look on her face.

“Thank you, Rhoswen,” she said as she grabbed the box off the elf’s shaking hands. Leliana stared at the elf who had a haunted look now and shrugged her shoulders at Cullen and Cassandra who both had peeved expressions, it was during that moment that Leliana half believed that their face were permanently etched into such a displeased form. She laughed lightly at the thought, which surprised Rhoswen, and the other two advisors who looked at the Spymaster quizzically.

“I hope you could keep what we said amongst ourselves a secret. Well, until it has been officially announced that is,” Leliana said casually to the elf who nodded her head fervently in agreement. “Also, could you look for the Herald and ask her to meet us in the courtyard?”

“Yes, Sister Leliana. At once,” Rhoswen said. She bowed her head at the advisors and quickly walked out of the room, slamming the door shut in her haste.

“Now. Have we come to a decision?” Leliana asked, turning her entire body the room, eager for an answer.

\----------

Alysia walked up the stairs and pushed the door that led her out into the lower courtyard, her eyes strained against the sudden light on her face but the warmth was most welcoming. She saw all of her advisors standing next to Cassandra; they all seemed to have been waiting for her—she could not decided if it was a good or bad thing. Cullen shot Alysia a quick reassuring nod when he saw her face turn a little pale when Cassandra waved at the tired looking Herald over. Hesitant, she walked towards her advisors, who departed, except for Cassandra who regarded her with admiration.

“Walk with me,” Cassandra said as she led Alysia up a flight of stairs towards the landing of Skyhold.

Alysia stared at the other advisors who seemed to be looking at her discreetly, as if anticipating something monumental to happen. Whatever it was, she knew that it would be life changing and not something she could easily steer clear off.

Why didn’t I turn and run the other way when I had the chance?

\----------

“Hold on. You want me to what—”, she hissed through her teeth. Fear rising in her throat as she spoke. To her right, she saw Leliana waiting on the landing with a sword in her hand, and to her left she saw a crowd of people starting to gather around them, which was was no doubt Josephine’s idea.

“Your decision let us heal the sky. Your determination brought us out of Haven. You are Corypheus’ rival because of what you did. And we know it. All of us. The Inquisition requires a leader. And you are the one who has already been leading it from the start,” Cassandra said, determined for Alysia to understand her worth, especially in regards to the Inquisition.

Leliana extended the sword to Alysia who reluctantly shifted her eyes from the ground to the sword. She glanced nervously around the crowd, so many eyes looking up at her in awe, and the sight of all of her people staring back at her made her tremble in fear. Sure she helped them get out of Haven but that was pure luck, she was no Inquisitor—she could not lead an army. Or anyone for that matter. She was nothing, her father made sure of that.

But then through her apprehensions, she saw Cullen looking back at her. And with the smallest of gestures that his honey eyes made, she felt as thought it was just Cullen in front of her, and everyone else seemed to not exist. He stared at her with so much certainty that it made her stomach turn. She recalled the day she saw him collapse on the snow and how she promised herself that she would never let Cullen waste away. She had to heed her own advice for once, and she could not let herself disappear into her father’s shadow that he built for her—she had to fight. For herself. For Thedas. For him.

She grabbed the hilt of the sword and let its weight dance on the palm of her hand, she slowly twisted her wrist, gazing at the beauty of the sword as it came into full view. She turned to the crowd and drunk up the sight of everyone staring at her with regard.

“Corypheus will never let me live in peace. He made that clear. He intends to be a God. To rule over us all. Corypheus must be stopped,” she said, her voice thundering over the crowd. Alysia gripped the hilt of the sword tighter as she found truth in her words.

Cassandra stepped forward and gazed at the crowd below her. “Have our people been told?” her voice as loud as Alysia, filled with conviction.

“They have. And soon the world,” Josephine’s voice rang from below.

“Commander, will they follow?” Cassandra asked loudly.

Cullen looked up at Alysia whose gaze never left his. The sight of her in front of him took his breath away. He could sense the fear in her eyes but the determination that was etched on her face reassured him that she was the woman for the Inquisiton. For him.

Cullen turned towards the crowd of people behind him. “Inquisition, will you follow?” he shouted to the crowd, as he walked around them.

The crowd cheered loudly in agreement with the Commander.

“Will you fight?” he asked, lifting his hands up into the air to inflate the crowd’s enthusiasm even more. “Will we triumph?” he yelled out again, to which the crowd cried out again, their voices growing louder filling the entire courtyard.

“Hear hear, your leader, your Herald, your Inquisitor!” Cullen shouted, as he drew his sword from his sheathe and extended it out towards the air. Alysia answered their cries by lifting her sword up into the air, its blade shone under the sun making it glimmer; she pledge to her self silently that she would not let them down.

She would be their Inquisitor.


	22. Drifting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aurealia is hiding a secret, and so is Solas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♫ Drifting by On and On
> 
> Send me some love on [ Tumblr ](http://in-vogued.tumblr.com/)

She narrowed her eyes at the piece of paper she was holding and continued tapping her quill in a continuous tempo against the surface of her wooden desk. She shifted on her seat and sighed loudly in the confines of her quarters, Alysia folded the missive and buried it under a leather bound book that Aurelia gifted her soon after she was dubbed the Inquisitor. She slouched against the oak chair she was sitting on and propped her head backwards and mused at the impending passive aggressive notes that would stream into her room if Josephine had caught wind of her not finishing her duties. She hadn’t left her room all week; she’d spent most of it reading through piles of letters and books about the Inquisition and how it should be run—she never expected it to be easy but neither did she expect it to require so much effort, in comparison to the noble upbringing she had to endure for most of her adolescent life. As most noble families go, the Trevelyan’s were not all that different; every child in the family had to learn various skillset to live up to the Trevelyan name—skills such as riding, manners and mingling were of the outmost importance, especially for the women in the family.

A brief knock on the door disturbed Alysia from her reverie; she shook her head lightly at the thought of reminiscing on her childhood. It was an act she never liked participating in; it wasn’t because her childhood was considered unpleasant, it was more of the fact that she didn’t like thinking about the past in general. With each passing moment she spends accumulating the past, Alysia feels as though she is being suffocated by memories that have long departed. She feels as if she would soon rot and become part of it, and lose her battle between hanging on and letting go.

She stared lazily at the source of the knock, and waited a moment before announcing for whomever it was to come in.

“I brought you desserts,” the voice said, as it was walking up the stairs. “Figured that you might need some,” it continued as the figure came into full view.

Alysia smiled at her sister and got up from her chair; walking over to her sister, She stopped briefly and eyed the tray of food that her sister brought her.

“Apples?” she asked while scrunching up her face at her sister who quirked her brow up in affirmation. “That’s not a dessert,” she continued while eyeing the fruit suspiciously as if it contained poison. Her stomach grumbled loudly at the sight of the food and it was during that moment that she realized that she hadn’t eaten anything all morning.

“It’s supper then,” Aurelia said and rolled her eyes at her sister’s ungratefulness.

She placed the tray of food on Alysia’s bedside table and glanced lazily at the opened books and scrunched up papers that replaced whatever floor her sister’s room had and let out a small chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” Alysia asked, while biting down on the fruit.

Aurelia turned around to face her sister who was sitting on the edge of her bed while devouring the apples with such eagerness that she was sure her sister would choke from it.

“Tsk, manners Alysia. And they call you the Inquisitor?” Aurelia said in jest.

Alysia looked up at her sister in mock offense and proceeded to wipe her mouth with the sleeve of her tunic.

“Better?” she asked while grinning at her sister who proceeded to shake her head in disgust.

“I bet you that mother is rolling her grave right now with disappointment,” Aurelia said while propping against her sister and resting her head on her shoulders.

Alysia turned to her sister and let out a muffled a laugh at the very thought of her dead mother’s disapproval look at her lack of lady-like manners; she had not a silver of doubt that if the dead could rise again, her mother would kick her way out of her coffin and march down her to lecture her about it.

“I’m pretty sure dead people can’t roll over, Lia,” Alysia said absently while scratching her chin, to which Aurelia swatted her sister at the rude remark.

“Don’t talk about mother that way. She was wonderful woman, until now I could never understand the manner of her—”, Alysia placed her index finger over her sister’s mouth and shot her a harsh look. She could not bear to let her sister finish what she wanted to say; she recalled the autumn of when her mother died—she vividly remembered the expression etched on everyone’s faces when they heard about her sudden death, no expected a steadfast woman like her to die so unexpectedly.

“You promised to never speak of it,” Alysia said as she pushed herself off the bed and chucked the half eaten apple into the tray.

“Aye, I did,” Aurelia said, and trailed off into thought.

“What do you suppose happens now? Now that you’re the Inquisitor,” Aurelia asked, breaking the silence in the room.

Alysia leaned against the hardwood pillar of the balcony and stared out of the window, though the sky was growing darker, painted slowly by the glimmering starts, a rhythm was still growing within the walls of Skyhold. She watched people shuffle by in the courtyard, merchants were busy loading their carts back with goods that were unsold from the day, the tavern was bursting with life with loud music and laughter reverberating from its wooden walls, loud yells of encouragement came from the training pit where Cullen and his recruits were pleased with the day’s training. Even now, at this hour, little children were gathered around a fire pit, listening to more embellished tales from Varric who was pretending to aim Bianca and an invisible foe. Alysia giggled quietly when she watched the children’s eyes grow wide from whatever it was Varric was telling them, she was certain the dwarf was enjoying himself, more so from his audiences’ reaction. Even though night was breaking, Skyhold was filled with something bright, something more than any lamp, or sunlight could ever shower over.

“I don’t know. I didn’t expect any of this to happen, neither did I want it to,” Alysia said as she turned her gaze from the courtyard below to her sister who was resting her chin on the top of her hand.

“But, all I know is that I have to keep going. If not for me, for them,” she continued as she returned her gaze back to the people below.

Aurelia shifted in her seat and chewed on the bottom of her lip. She, like Alysia had not expected these turn of events—her sister’s escape from the Free Marches was easy, so was rescuing her after the Conclave—but this, her being the Inquisitor was something she would have never imagined. Not in a million years. She knew that her father would soon find out the truth, almost half of Thedas has already heard of the Inquisition; she is certain that when her father does find out, he would come after Alysia and take her back to the Free Marches with all of his might. What happens after is something she would not want to imagine either. Every time she looked into her sister’s eyes, she felt an overwhelming guilt wash over her—no matter how hard she tried to convince her family that her sister was perfectly normal, they would never believe her.

Her mage ability was something her family never expected to happen; sure there were a few mages in their bloodline, but most of them ended up dead or worse, turned into abominations before their adolescent years. But Alysia was the odd one out. She was the outsider. The irregularity in the entire situation. She grew on to live past 20, even with her repressed abilities. After the night in Haven, she wasn’t sure if her sister’s abilities had entirely been suppressed; she was certain that it was lying dormant within her. But if it ever does show again, she knew that she had to find a way to repress it. Even if it meant Alysia’s death.

“I will do everything in my power to keep you safe,” Aurelia said, wincing internally at her words.

Alysia eyed her sister, and nodded. “And I you, Lia,” she said, grinning at her sister who returned it with a warm smile.

\----------

The room was fairly dark; the only light that illuminated the room was coming from a tiny oil lamp on the edge of a table. A gentle breeze came through an open window from above the rotunda, chilling the room slightly. Towards the corner of the room, a slim figure lay still on a _chaise longue_ , his back was firmly pressed against the cool surface of the brick wall, and his misplaced right arm that was draped over his forehead obscured most of his face. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Solas knew that he was asleep. He told himself that he was neither there nor here, and tried to wake himself up, but his being wouldn’t return to the present. There was much more in the Fade he had to search for, answers to a question he could not understand, but even in it, he could not find what he was looking for. In his mind, Solas had reached a land so old that even the sky was painted ash gray; whatever he was looking for was no longer there, and he knew it, the spirits had warned him. Frantic, Solas screamed in the Fade, frustrated at the dream-like reality was repeating itself, and the thought of it made his throat constrict and his chest tight.

“Solas?” a female voice cut through the anxious environment he was in. It sounded distant.

He sensed his body stir in the present, something was different about the manner of his rouse, he felt a warm hand press against the sides of his cheeks; something was puling him back to the present, away from his insistent search in the Fade. It was an act that no one had ever been able to accomplish before.

“Hey?” she spoke again, this time closer to his ears.

Solas’ eyes slowly opened to the familiar voice who was knelt beside him on the floor. Reality had found him, and in this case, it was in the form a human woman who was now staring at him with worry in her eyes.

Alysia wiped away trails of sweat that was on his forehead; she had never seen the calm elf so anxious before, especially when he was asleep. For a moment, she wondered if she had done the right thing. She had been walking down the foyer when she heard muffle grunts coming from Solas’ study; curious, she had to see what was happening. She had pushed the door to a mere slit and peered out; seeing nothing, she opened the door more and found Solas’ facial expression scrunched up into uneasiness. Instinctively, she knew that Solas’ mind was far away, but she never knew where exactly, but wherever he was, it was causing him great distress and she had to do something. She always had to do something.

She could not grasp the idea of what the Fade exactly was, but she empathized with him. Many nights, she had tried to sleep through her own versions of nightmares, but she knew that the Fade was entirely different.

“Was it the tea?” she blurted out, while removing her hand from his cheeks.

“What?” Solas asked, confused at her question.

“I just wondered if your unpleasant journey in the Fade was caused by tea. If I recall, you hated it?” she said, more so in uncertainty. She smiled slightly and rested her head beside his face. From where she was, she could feel his ragged breath on her, and his unmoving from hers.

“It might have been,” Solas said, his scowl now quirking up into a smirk.

“I knew it,” Alysia exclaimed, feeling slightly triumphant. But deep down she knew that he was lying, he only drank tea when he _never_ wanted to sleep. She knew that there was something troubling him but Solas was much too proud of a person to ever speak to anyone about it.

“Where were you this time?” she asked, returning her head back to the corner of the _chaise longue_.

Solas raised his brow at her question, unsure if she was being earnest or teasing him again. But either way, he decided to humor the newly appointed Inquisitor.

“I was in an ancient ruin, one long forgotten by the people who once roamed its land,” he said.

“Oh? And what were you doing in said ruin?”

“Learning,” he said, in a matter of fact kind of way.

“And what did you learn exactly?” she asked, pursing her lips at the question.

“Nothing in particular,” he said, smirking as he watched Alysia’s eyes grow exasperated at his words.

“Oh come on Solas. Humor me, please?” Alysia asked. She removed her head from beside him and shook her head in annoyance at the elf who was now clearly teasing her.

Instead of giving her a proper answer, Solas lifted his body off the _chaise longue_  and let out a chuckle. “It is the truth,” he said as he got up from his former position and extended his hand out to Alysia was staring up at him while pouting.

“You’re no fun, you know that?” she grumbled at Solas, who raised his eyebrow at her as if expecting her to continue her childish manor.

Alysia rolled her eyes at Solas and slowly reached her hand out to accept his. His grip was firm on her hand when he pulled her up; as she was about to stand firmly on her feet, Solas gently tucked his forearm around her lower back and pulled her towards his face, fingers carefully prodding on the side of her waist. He noted the shock expression on her face when she was almost at eye level with him and guiltily enjoyed the way her eyebrows were raised at him and how the sides of her lips twitched in surprise.

Heat flooded her cheeks when she felt Solas’ firm grip against her. She wanted to turn around and run but she felt her knees grow weak; his gaze was locked on hers, and it was far too compelling to turn away from unexplored. Alysia could not step away from his hold, even if her life dependent on it, and she felt utterly consumed and trapped. His hand moved round to cradle her head, his fingers slowly intertwining with her silvery locks; grabbing a handful of it, Solas lowered his face leisurely towards hers until the warmth of her breath touched his skin—before Alysia could mentally register what was about to happen, Solas let out a low chuckle. One that made Alysia gasp, Solas removed his arms from her lower back and head and smiled wryly at Alysia, who was staring at him, perplexed.

“ ‘Fun’ is a relative term, Inquisitor,” he teased.

Solas held his smirk; eventually he turned his back to Alysia and walked out of the room, leaving the stunned Inquisitor alone in the rotunda. Alysia stood there, watching him in disbelief; her face was scrunched up into confusion and her mouth was agape. Alysia felt that the moment she just shared with Solas was as if she had crossed an invisible line between them, as if she had reached a place of insensibility, it made her want to _widen_ the distance they shared, but it also made her want to treasure it.

A snap from the rookery above made her jump, and sent her heart pounding in a frantic pace. Alysia gripped the collar of her shirt tightly and squeezed her eyes shut, she took several breaths and tried not to think about what Solas did or might have done.

“You bastard,” she whispered under her breath.

She rolled her shoulders back, and shook her head faintly. Solas was someone she could never figure out, even if she tried. The elf was a walking contradiction; in front of everyone Solas was perceived to be self-contained, brilliant, worldly and enigmatic. But whenever Alysia was alone with him, the illusory persona that shadowed Solas sometimes faded away, as if he was allowing her a glimpse of his lost true self. To Alysia, Solas was someone who had two identities, both were equally authentic, but each seemed open to hypocrisy. She could not understand how someone could live their entire life being two different people, and yet live it unadulterated. Did Solas not find it exhausting? But then again, who was Alysia to judge, she was no better, and she knew that. She had been wearing a metaphorical mask her whole life; wearing a different face with her family, her friends, and even to herself. She’d been wearing so many different versions of herself that even sometimes she forgets who she really was underneath all of those layers. Maybe in a sense that was her own way of coping, like it was the only way she could define her artificial self; because wearing a mask made her feel nothing and with it, she could do anything.

Because, no one can judge you when you are wearing a mask; because the face that they’re looking at isn’t really real anymore. Isn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that this chapter took forever, sorry!  
> Any who, hope you enjoyed it and feedbacks are most welcomed :)


	23. Small Things (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra finds out Varric's secret, and Cullen and Alysia are caught in the middle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm doing a slightly different take on the whole Hawke arc. Hope you like it :)
> 
> Send me some love on [ Tumblr ](http://in-vogued.tumblr.com/)
> 
> ♫ Small Things by Ben Howard

Staring at himself for the last time before he was to met Varric, Cullen straightened his surcoat and quickly gloved his fingers; he stared long and hard at the reflection that was supposed to be him—he noted on the wrinkles that had etched itself on his forehead, he never really paid attention to it but today it stood out more than usual. Cullen placed a gloved finger on the scar on his lip, and smirked at how he got it—the foolish Templar boy that he was, but that was years ago. Now he was more than that boy, more than the innocent child who wanted to save people; now, he was Cullen Rutherford, Commander of the Inquisition—he was a man who is tainted. Ignoring the thought that was pestering his head, Cullen swiftly slid off the ladder that led up to his room and landed with a thud on the floor below.

He routinely turned his head around to check on the disaster that was his study and sighed loudly—he made a mental note to clean it up as soon as possible, or rather before Aurelia decided on paying him another unannounced visit. Just a few days ago, after her sister had been appointed Inquisitor, Aurelia impassively walked into his study whilst he was mending his armor—the look on her face was stark white when she saw him half naked, sitting on his wooden chair. He made another mental note to not waltz around his study without a shirt on—Maker knows who could walk in next. Secretly, he hoped it would be Alysia. With a jolt, Cullen coughed loudly at the mental image that led him to think of Alysia under him. She was the Inquisitor, his Inquisitor. It would be wrong, nay, unprofessional of him to fall for her. But Maker knows that he had long fallen into that pit.

\----------

Alysia sat cross-legged on the floor facing the balcony, she sat silently, listening to the sound of the rain as it pattered lightly onto the balcony door; her head was leaned against the glass door, eyes shut, head wandering to far off places—a habit she picked up from the secretive elf that made her heart flutter. The evening was quiet, the rain had been pouring since noon and most people were in their houses—even the pub tonight was quiet. The space of sky above Skyhold was the color of ever-changing violet, and the lamps that were outside of the small houses let out a feeble glow. The evening was growing tired.

She opened her eyes slightly when he heard the footsteps of leather boots clanking along the concrete pavement, it echoed off the quiet battlements as he walked past them—it was Cullen. She wondered where he could be heading to, at this hour. She slanted her body so she could watch him; she recalled that he hadn’t spoken to him ever since their previous encounter. It was not as if she was ignoring him on purpose, but she could never find reason to visit him—but she often saw him in the early mornings, training with his men. And after dusk, she would see his room lit until the late night—a time where most of the people in Skyhold were well into their sleep. The thought of him being awake when everyone else was asleep comforted Alysia a little, for she knew that on the nights she couldn’t sleep, she would watched the light from Cullen’s room and that gave her relief, knowing that she was not alone on those nights. She watched Cullen walk towards the main hall, curious, she wondered if she should pay him a visit and ask him what he was doing on this side of the stronghold—a place she rarely saw him in.

Alysia got up from the cold floor and straightened her clothes; she quickly braided her hair into a loose bun and as she was about to leave she inspected the way she looked in the mirror next to her bed, she raised her chin up slightly and notice the dark circles that were under her eyes, one no amount of make up could conceal, but this would have to do.

\----------

Varric sat on one of the stools closest to the fireplace, with a cup in his hand. He swirled the cup absently while eyeing the piece of parchment paper on top of the wooden table—parts of it was filled with blotched ink, smirking at the hastily written letter, Varric knew that he was going to be in deep trouble soon. Especially if the Seeker ever caught wind of what he did. He did not like lying to her, or anyone for that matter, but what was he to do—he could not risk the life of someone he held dear. But there was no point in dwelling in a mistake he made months ago, now all he had to do was come clean, in the safest way possible. And Cullen was his only option.

It wasn’t because he believed that Cullen would take the matter any lighter than Cassandra would, but it was mostly because Cullen would set him straight and help him tell Cassandra—or so he hoped he would. Varric sighed loudly and leaned back on his chair, he massaged his temples with two fingers and shut his eyes. There was no easy way out if this.

\-----------

The guards that were standing on each side of the main hall door greeted the Commander as he passed through it; Cullen nodded promptly and continued his walk towards Varric whose body slouched heavily on the wooden stool with his head pointed up at the ceiling with his eyes closed. Cullen eyed the dwarf briefly and chuckled at the sight—next to Varric was Bianca, who was leaning against his foot. Even in his sleep, Varric had to have Bianca close to him, Cullen mused.

Walking closer, Cullen contemplated for a moment if he should wake the dwarf; but then he recalled why he was in here in the first place, it was because sent him a missive saying that he needed to speak to him about something urgent. He stood on the opposite end of the dwarf and decided to tap him on the shoulder, but before he could raise his hand, Varric opened his right eye, but said nothing.

“Varric, you asked for me?” Cullen said, returning his arm to his side.  
“I did? When?” Varric replied. He knew exactly why Cullen was here, but he wanted to yank his chain. He loved doing that to people, especially to Cullen.

“Varric. I don’t have much time. I suggest you hurry up,” Cullen replied coolly, he wasn’t about to let the dwarf outplay him, once again.

He recalled the habit the dwarf picked up ever since they became acquainted in Kirkwall. Varric would often tease him and test him, but the worst was that dreaded nickname— _Curly_. What an awful name, it didn't even resemble him in the slightest. Well it did, for a while, but those years were long past. Funny how two very different people, with two different lives ended up being in the same place after everything; fate was an odd thing, Cullen thought to himself.

Varric narrowed his eyes and cast it to the side—his game was about to end.

“Sit?” Varric suggested, lifting his hand and pointing it towards the chair on the opposite end of him.

Mechanically, Cullen agreed and proceeded to sit down. He stared at the dwarf who seemed to continuously avert his gaze—he could sense that whatever the dwarf called him for it was grave. But he wouldn’t flat out ask him, not until Varric started to conversation.

The time ticked by, but Varric still remained silent, probably thinking on the best way to break the news out to Cullen. He couldn't bear to look at Cullen, whose amber eyes seemed to burn with such intensity and honesty—he couldn’t bare to lie to someone who has looked out for him, despite their usual banter.

“So,” Varric started, looking up at Cullen who hunched his body forward, leaning both arms on the table. “So. I have some news. It’s not bad news… well not entirely. Depending on how you’re going to take it. But still, I have news,” Varric said, choosing his words carefully.

“And?” Cullen asked, raising his eyebrows at Varric who pretended to cough.

“Well. You see. The thing is—,” before the dwarf could continue. Cassandra burst through the doors, yelling at the top of her voice.

“You lied to me!” Cassandra exclaimed, and slammed both of her hands loudly on the wooden table, startling both Varric and Cullen.

“You knew where Hawke was all along,” she shouted at him.

With a jolt Varric stood up and defended himself, ignoring the questions coming out of Cullen’s mouth.

“You’re damned right I did!”

“You… You conniving little shit!” Cassandra yelled.

Before Cullen could come in between the pair, Cassandra leaped across the table and pounced on the dwarf. On top of him, she tried to hit his face but Cullen managed to pull the struggling woman, holding her entire body in his arms to stop them from fighting.

“Cullen, let me go!”

“Hold on. Hitting Varric won’t do you any good,” Cullen grunted at Cassandra, who struggled more in his grip.

“Exactly! You kidnapped me. You interrogated me. What did you expect?” Varric bellowed.

“You’re not helping, Varric,” Cullen roared. “Alysia?” he said, confused at the Inquisitor who was running towards them, panting.

“Guys. Whatever is going on. Stop!” she pleaded eyeing the three of them.

Cassandra scrunched up her face in disgust and kicked Cullen heavily on the shin, causing the Commander to groan out in pain. Before Cassandra could get to Varric, he ran around the table fairly quickly despite his reach.

The scene looked as if it was right out of a comedy play. There was a raving mad woman. A groaning man. A man with masked intentions. And then there was the person who was trying to stop the whole thing.

Cassandra ran around the other side of the table and tried to swipe Varric but the dwarf ducked and flung a chair over the table to stop the Seeker from reaching him.

“Enough!” Alysia bellowed, her voice thundering the foyer.

“You’re taking his side,” Cassandra scoffed darkly. As she was about to fling another punch at Varric, Alysia ran in between them and accepted the full force of Cassandra’s hit.

Shocked, Cassandra gasped loudly, along with both Varric and Cullen. Alysia cocked her head up and spat out the blood that was in her mouth; Cassandra knelt to her knees where Alysia was, along with Cullen who placed his right arm on her lower back, checking if she was alright—she was mostly, except for the nasty bruise on her right cheek.

“I said enough,” Alysia said while lightly touching the side of her face where she got punched.

Defeated, or rather humiliated at what she just did, Cassandra propped herself and the Inquisitor off the floor. She leaned on to brick wall with both of her arms crossed, and stared angrily at Varric who seemed to be taking the entire situation quite well, considering it was mostly his doing. Cullen still held Alysia’s lower back, glowering at Cassandra—but Cassandra didn’t care of how angry the Commander was at her.

He couldn’t, no, wouldn’t understand what Varric has done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it's taken me FOREVER to put up a chapter update, I've been in assignment hell for the past month and still am drowning in it!
> 
> But anywho, hope you liked it :)


	24. Cold Kind Hand (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen receives an unexpected invitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♫ Cold Kind Hand by The Paper Kites

“I’m—,” Cassandra began. But she could not find the right words to say to anyone. She knew that she acted out of emotions but she had every right to be angry. Varric deceived her. He deceived the Inquisition.

“We need someone to lead the Inquisition. Hawke was our only hope. She was the Champion of Kirkwall. The mages respected her. And you—Varric. You kept her from us,” she said icily.

Annoyed, Varric pointed his index finger at Alysia who stared at the both of them, confused.

“The Inquisition has a leader,” Varric said, still pointing his finger at Alysia.

“Don’t you dare—Hawke. She would have been at the Conclave. If anyone could have saved Most Holy…” she trailed off, lowering her eyes towards the floor. The thought of Divine Victoria being dead was still too much for Cassandra to bear. It had been weeks, months after the Conclave and yet she still could not wrap her head around the fact Divine Victoria was dead. Is dead.

“You cannot change the past, Cassandra” Cullen said exasperatedly.

At those words, Cassandra’s head shot up at Cullen. Fury still in her eyes.

“So I must accept… _what_? That the Maker _wanted_ all this to happen? That He, that He…” she lowered her eyes towards the floor again. But then she straightened her back and stared at Alysia, resolve in her eyes. She walked towards Alysia and spoke.

“Varric is a liar, Inquisitor. A snake,” she accused. “Even after the Conclave, when we needed Hawke most, Varric kept her a secret,” she continued.

“She’s with us now. Soon. We’re on the same side,” Varric yelled back at the Seeker, whose eyes grew wide at his words.

“Soon? But—We all know whose side you’re on Varric. It will never be the Inquisition’s.”

“Attacking him now won’t help us Cassandra,” Alysia said, placing her hand over Cassandra’s to give her comfort.

“Exactly,” Varric agreed.

“Varric. You better not be keeping anything else from us,” Alysia said, turning her body towards the dwarf for grumbled at her words.

“You are right,” Cassandra said, agreeing with Alysia. “You said that Hawke is ‘with us now’. Where is she?” she asked Varric, turning to him and raising her brow in question.

“She will arrive at first light. She sent me a missive. Here,” Varric said, handing over the missive to Cassandra who snatched it from his hands.

Reading it hastily, relief spread over Cassandra’s face. She sighed under her breath and crossed both of her arms behind her back, not before handing the letter to Alysia, who shared it with Cullen. The both of them quickly scanned through the letter then stared at each other for a moment, as if they were both sharing their thoughts with each other; Cullen handed the missive back to Varric who folded it and tucked it into his pocket. He walked over to Bianca who lay on the floor near the chair Varric was sitting on previously. He bent down and grabbed her, and dusted it before strapping it on to his back. He stood silent for a moment, not wanting to turn around and face the three of them.

He planned for this to go down quietly, but it was a fool’s hope.

“You know what I think?” Varric said, turning to face them. “If Hawke had been at the temple, _she’d be dead too_ ” he continued.

Wincing at the thought, Cassandra lowered her eyes to the ground.

“You people have done enough to her,” he said, walking away from the three of them who stood silently watching the dwarf leave the main hall.

Cassandra slammed her fist towards the brick wall, still angry at Varric who seemed to come out as the victim despite being the cause of it. The room remained silent after Varric disappeared out of sight, probably heading down to his quarters. 

“I believed him. He spun his story for me, and I swallowed it. If I’d just explained what was at stake… If I’d just made him understand,” Cassandra began.

“But I didn’t, did I? I didn’t explain why we needed Hawke. I’m such a fool, Inquisitor,” she said, her voice cracking at the remorse she felt.

Alysia glanced at Cullen, wondering if he knew how to console the Seeker but he felt just as hopeless as Alysia did. She turned her head back to Cassandra who still had her fist balled up against the wall, she hesitated for a moment, then walked over to the crestfallen woman and smiled weakly at her. 

“What if you hadn’t believed him, and you’d tracked Hawke down?” she asked.

Alysia didn’t want to know the answer to that. She didn’t want to know that her presence was not up to par with Hawke, who Cassandra desired most to be Inquisitor. But maybe Cassandra was right; maybe Hawke would have been better for it. But maybe Varric was also right; maybe Hawke would have died at the temple. Maybe she was meant to become the leader of the Inquisition, despite her qualms. Maybe Haven was supposed to be destroyed, buried under a thick layer of snow. Maybe Corypheus was right about everything.

Maybe this was fate’s sick way in telling a big ‘ _fuck you_ ’ to everyone’s hopes and ideas of what the ideal situation should be.

“Honestly, Hawke might not even have agreed to become Inquisitor. She supported the mage rebellion. She wouldn’t have trusted me for a second. And this place—the Inquisition, we need to trust one another. We need trust. Without it, Corypheus will swallow us whole,” she muttered.

“But this isn’t about Hawke, or even Varric. Not truly,” she said. “I should have been more careful. I should have been smarter. I don’t… I don’t deserve to be here,” Cassandra announced, clenching her fist at the thought.

Before she could reply Cassandra properly, Alysia let out a laugh, stunning both Cassandra and Cullen who both stared at her as if she were a mad woman.

“You cannot be serious Cassandra! Have you looked at the Inquisition?” she asked, placing both of her hands on her hips. “We’re all fools here! Except for… Vivienne, maybe. But, fools nonetheless,” she said, laughing at her words.

Cassandra let out a strangled chuckle at Alysia’s attempt in calming her nerves. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” she asked.

“More at home, maybe,” Alysia said while grabbing both of Cassandra’s hands. “This is home. And it wouldn’t be home if you weren’t in it.”

“Trust me,” Alysia whispered silently to Cassandra, as if those words were only for her ears and no one else’s.

Alysia held her gaze with Cassandra’s, the same gaze she had when held the blade that Leliana gave her when she promised to lead the Inquisition. With it, she hoped that the Seeker understood her words clearly—she hoped that with it whenever Cassandra’s emotions started to waver, whenever she had self-doubt, whenever she felt like she had nowhere else to go, she would always be re-assured that Skyhold was her home. And it was home to anyone who sough it.

Cassandra nodded at Alysia who smiled in reply; she couldn’t really put her finger on it but having Alysia tell her that she had Skyhold as her home resounded within her—for the life of her she could not understand why this irresponsible, hot headed noble made her feel at ease, a sensation she rarely felt. Maybe it was because Alysia was good at making life seem easy. Maybe because through everything: the explosion at the temple, the mark on her hand, being a prisoner first, then the Herald, dealing with Corypheus and the loss of Haven, to now, being Inquisitor; Alysia has managed to deal with everything through such grace and maturity.

“Which? The fact that everyone in the Inquisition are fools or the latter?”

“Whichever you prefer, Cass,” Alysia replied, winking at the Seeker whose face started to have a light tinge of blush

“Which reminds me, how did you know about Varric not telling you the truth about Hawke?”

Cassandra gulped at Alysia’s inquiry, she knew that as much as Varric was guilty for lying, she was as guilty for not trusting anyone in the Inquisition.

“I—ah--- intercepted his letters.”

“You what?” Alysia asked, eyes growing wide at Cassandra’s confession.

Cassandra shrugged her shoulders and turned to Alysia, who in turn, turned to Cullen who shot them both a confused look—the poor man had been standing like a statue behind the two woman ever since their conversation began; chuckling internally at the thought, Alysia promised to make it up to him for excluding him.

“Varric sent out a bunch of letters, some to his editors, some to his fans, and they were all written in proper sentences. But then there were these poems—,”

“Poems?” Alysia interjected.

“Yes. Poems.”

“What kind of poems?”

Cassandra coughed lightly into her gloved hand and pretended to clear her throat, with that Alysia knew that whatever Cassandra had on Varric was going to be a mouthful.

“Ah—love poems.”

With that reply, Alysia slapped her forehead.

“ _Love poems_. Cassandra? I expected something more grandeur.”

“Yes. Yes. If you would let me finish. These poems at first seemed like a love poem to a lady… to whomever it was he was pinning for. But after… a meticulous reading of them. _For investigative purposes_. I realized that it was written as a cipher. So over time, I started to cipher them and that’s how I found out that he was writing to Hawke in the guise of love poems,” Cassandra said, it a matter of fact kind of way.

Alysia stood silent at her spot, with her arms crossed. She wasn’t sure if she should congratulate the Seeker for being so clever or if she should be wary that she was somehow more devious than both Leliana and Josephine combined.

“Right. Well, we’ll leave it as that. I suggest you go to bed now, and stop intercepting people’s letters. Promise?” Alysia said, while waving her hand at Cassandra to usher her out.

With that, Cassandra let out an exasperated sigh, like a child who had been denied a piece of candy; she turned on her heels and walked out of the main hall. Leaving the Inquisitor and a dumbfounded Cullen alone. Somehow she was glad that the argument was resolved and that Alysia took the news of her going through Varric’s letter much lighter than she thought she would. Was she always this forgiving? Cassandra wondered to herself as she made her way to her room.

Alysia shrugged her shoulders and pushed the hair that was matted on to her forehead back—tonight was supposed to be quiet, it was supposed to be uneventful. But then again, that was wishful thinking—there was never a night in Skyhold where something didn’t happen. Or someone not trying to hit someone else.

She turned around and found a confused Cullen, clenching his jaw and tilting his head. She knew that she had completely forgotten about him ever since she tried to stop Cassandra and Varric fighting. In fact, she couldn’t even recall why she ever came down here in the first place. She wondered if she were never here by chance, would Cullen stop the fight? She couldn’t imagine him stopping one, maybe instigating it? _Probably_. But he was too much of a gentleman to let come in between Cassandra and Varric. He may be skilled in fighting, and hitting people where it hurts but the man was mostly a stuttering mess whenever tension rose. What a walking contradictory.

Speaking of hitting people where it hurts, Alysia felt a tingle on the right side of her face, a sensation she had forgotten was there. She patted her cheeks absently and recalled being punched by Cassandra—oh well, wartime rules, she chuckled to herself.

“You should get that checked,” Cullen said, interrupting Alysia’s thought.

She smiled at the Commander and waved her hand at him in an attempt to brush off his concern.

“I’m fine. I’ve gotten worst bruises than this in my lifetime,” she said.

Instead of feeling relieved at her words, Cullen placed his index finger and thumb on Alysia’s chin, and tipped it slowly upwards. He turned her head slowly from left to right to check on how bad the bruising was.

“Well… it’s safe to say that you won’t die from this. But Cassandra, she got you good,” he said, smirking at Alysia.

There was that _devilish_ smirk again. She missed it so. She wished that she could capture that smirk and place it in a jar, and keep it safe like a treasure and open it on days she was feeling terrible but this, this moment would have to do. 

Alysia brushed off Cullen’s hand from her chin and swatted him on the chest playfully.

“Ah Cullen, ever the humorous _prick_ that you are.”

“Me? A prick? Why milady. I would never,” he replied, lifting both of his arms in protest.

"As lovely as you are Cullen, you are a terrible liar," she said, cocking her head to side.

Cullen smiled shyly at her and ran a nervous hand on the back of his neck.

"You think I'm lovely?" he asked, wide-eyed with a blush creeping onto his face.

Alysia stared at him dumbfounded, she could not believe of all the things he picked up in her sentence, lovely was the word that made him blush. She snorted loudly, slapping her thigh mid-laugh suprising the Commander whose face grew even more red.

Wiping a tear that appeared on the side of her eye, Alysia beamed at Cullen and spoke. 

"You are remarkably strange, Cullen. Thank you for making me laugh. I needed that," she said. "Anyway," she continued, folding her arm back into her chest. "I'm sorry about what happened."

Cullen whose embarrassment now turned into concern walked closer to Alysia, who had her arms crossed to her chest. 

“It wasn’t your fault to begin with,” Cullen said. “I enjoyed your company, even if mine was mostly…unnoticed,” he continued, his voice lower now.

Alysia felt a pang of guilt with his words even if what he mostly said was in jest. Well she hoped that it was.

"But really, you should get that bruise checked. Allow me?" he asked, honey eyes burning into hers as he awaited her reply. 

Alysia stood there for a moment, eyes averting the Commander's gaze. For some odd reason, she felt awfully self-conscious all of a sudden, especially when he was looking at her so earnestly. As if the bruise on her face was his fault. 

"Sure," she replied, biting her lower lip as she watched his face light up. "I think I might have some healing concotion in my room," she said, waiving her hand forward as she walked up to her room. 

With those words, Cullen gulped and felt something swell from within him. When he asked to fix her up, he assumed that she would decline him politely and that would be the end of their night. But now, he found himself being invited into her room. He had not planned on that happening. _Shit_. 

He wasn’t sure of what would happen, but whatever it was he hoped slightly that it would involve the image he had of her earlier during the evening. But first, he had to let her know.

And that was a task he was sure he would never get around to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be updated in a fortnight :)  
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> P/S: For anyone who is about to or is currently sitting for their finals, good luck!


	25. Hear Me Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Alysia spend an evening together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♫ Hear Me Out by Frou Frou

Cullen gazed at the fire that he stoked before Alysia disappeared into one of the closed doors in her room. While she was gone, he watched the ash logs burn, making a crackling sound and spitting little sparks into the metal hearth. He could no longer hear the rain anymore but when he looked out of the window he noticed that the air was misty—settling over the stronghold.

He felt oddly comfortable waiting for Alysia in her room, despite his heart pounding quickly in his chest like a war drum. He wondered if he looked okay, if his hair was a mess, if his face showed his lack of sleep. If his lyrium withdrawal was showing.

_Maker, I’m acting like pre-pubescent love struck teen._

He put his right palm over his eyes and rubbed them hard—he hoped dearly that he wouldn't mess anything up tonight. He wouldn’t know how to face her tomorrow if he did.

_Ugh tomorrow._

Cullen groaned at the thought of tomorrow—Hawke would be arriving to Skyhold unannounced. Sort of. And he was sure that Josephine would loose her shit, yet again. And Cassandra would make disgusted noises in the background when she was sure no one was listening. But truly everyone in the room could hear her.

He let out a deep sigh fearing for what would happen tomorrow. Without realizing, Alysia hovered over his chair on her tiptoes.

“Comfy, Mr Rutherford?” she asked from behind him, startling him from his thoughts.

“Ah-yes actually,” Cullen said, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand while he watched Alysia; she carried two glasses on her right hand and a bottle of something under her arm and a wooden box on her left.

“So,” she said as she propped herself lightly on the floor next to the fireplace and placed the items in front of her; she opened the wooden box first—it contained a few herbs and some pots. She pulled out a grey circular pot and unladed it.

“I was thinking that while you clean me up, we could have a bit of a drink?” she said, pointing at the two glasses and the bottle with her nose.

She looked up at Cullen quickly and noted how he was still rooted to the velvet chair, and sighed.

“But you know, neither of that can happen if you sit there all night,” she said in jest, holding out the pot to him.

In true Cullen fashion, his face grew light red. To cover up his shyness, Cullen immediately grabbed the pot and sat facing her. He removed the glove from his right hand and dipped his finger into the paste and felt his finger tingle slightly from the coldness it had.

Alysia tilted her head to the side and pushed her hair away from her face, giving Cullen more access to the bruise.

Cullen felt his heart racing at the sight of her exposed neck—pull yourself together, Rutherford, he instructed himself in his head.

He hovered slightly above her bruise before gently spreading the paste over it; Alysia winced a little when she felt the cold paste against her skin but gestured for Cullen to continue. The Commander obliged and concentrated on spreading it well over her cheek in an attempt to stop himself form downright staring at her face.

From such close proximity, Cullen found his eyes averting slightly to take in whatever tiny details of her that he could. He noticed the fine lines that were under her eyes, and the way her nose would twitch each time his finger moved across her cheek.

_I want you._

He noticed the full graceful slope of her nose and tiny ice pick scars on the apples of her cheeks; from the corner of his eyes he saw the way the fire lit the hues of her blue eyes differently—it looked somewhat ashen yet vibrant.

_I want to kiss you._

“Are you done?” she asked Cullen, interrupting his thoughts.

Her eyes grew warm when Cullen smiled at her, removing his hands from her right cheek and placing it on his lap.

“Yeah,” he breathed to her, while lidding the pot and handing it back to Alysia who placed it back into the wooden box.

She then turned back to Cullen and raised the bottle up into the air and wiggled it.

“So shall we?” she asked, popping the cork of the bottle and lifting one of the glasses up to Cullen.

Cullen smirked at Alysia and held his glass out to her and watched her pour white wine down his glass first, then hers.

She clinked her glass against his and took a mouthful of it in hopes for it to give her a little bit more courage to talk to Cullen—it wasn’t because she couldn’t talk to him but it was more so that she was talking to him alone, after the incident in the mountains.

Silence crept into the room, and the only sound that filled the room was the crackling fire and it lingered until Alysia spoke again.

“So how have you been since…last time we spoke?” she asked.

The question took Cullen entirely in surprise, but not really. He knew that it would come up in conversation at some point but he hoped that it wouldn’t be this soon. He wasn’t sure if he should give her an honest answer or if he should lie through his teeth in hopes that it would make him look less pathetic in her eyes.

“You don’t have to lie, you know,” she said, taking another sip of her drink. “It won’t change my perception of you.”

Cullen clenched his jaw and flexed his gloved hand; he never picked her up for someone who was _that_ intuitive. He found it rather daunting yet endearing.

“I’ve had worst days,” he muttered, catching her reaction as he said it.

“But?”

“I would still prefer to be taking it.”

“Why?”

 _Why? You know why_ , Cullen thought to himself.

“If it’s for the Inquisition then I’d rather you didn’t. I won’t let you take it for the sake of doing “better” at your job,” she said as she traced the rim of her glass with her index finger.

“That’s not it,” he said, clenching his jaw as he spoke.

“Then what is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you want to take it again, Cullen? Why are you willing to throw away the effort that you’ve put through in not relying on it?”

Cullen balled his fists and felt his temper flaring; he knew why he wanted to take it. Maker, even Cassandra did. Why was Alysia playing dumb? She knew it in her bones that he needs lyrium to be able to function. He wasn’t an addict—he wasn’t going to wind up like his friends did in Kirkwall or like Meredith. But what was he going to do? His nights were sleepless, plagued by nightmares after nightmares. He can’t stop the persistent headaches that were begging to split his head open in two. His hands shook sometimes, more so in the mornings. He was short of breath even after a short drill run with his recruits.

_I should be taking it._

“You shouldn’t be taking it, Cullen,” she whispered. “Hear me out, Cullen. You can’t find salvation in things that blur your senses. There is not coming back from that,” she continued.

Somehow when Cullen heard her words, he felt as though she was sharing something very intimate with him. Something that wasn’t entirely about lyrium. He felt his throat tighten and his chest burn from the pain that was in her eyes; she looked as though she had been utterly stripped of safety and affection and filled entirely with anguish. As though there were no such things as lasting comfort or joy again.

Before he could process the words that were about to slip out of his mouth, Cullen blurted a rather bold sentence.

“But I do know of something that might help,” he said, instantly regretting it when he saw Alysia staring at him with bewilderment.

“You do?” she asked hesitantly, a sly smile growing on her face.

“Sort of. I’ll show it you, when we’re free” he said.

Alysia placed her glass down on the floor and stared at Cullen who seemed to avert her gaze at whatever it was he was planning

“Cullen, what are you scheming?” she asked coyly.

“Nothing. But if you wait patiently you will see.”

“Why can’t you show it to me now?”

“Because Inquisitor it’s late and I’m pretty sure I can’t abduct you in the middle of the night, especially not when Hawke is arriving tomorrow,” he said, musing at the thought of Hawke. “You’d like her.”

“Who? Hawke?” Alysia asked, taking another swig of her drink.

“Yes, Hawke,” he said as he refilled their glasses.

“Why?”

“Well for starters, both of you are somewhat alike.

“How so?”

“You’re both stubborn—,”

“Am not!”

Cullen smirked at Alysia who seemed to reject the idea that she was at all stubborn.

“You are. Stop lying to yourself. And you both jump head first into a situation without thinking,”

“Do not,” Alysia interjected again, and crossed her arms.

“Are you sure about that Inquisitor? Because if I recall, the whole Redcliffe situation was you diving head first without discussing it with any of us first. Then you coming home with a Tevinter. And then when Corypheus attacked Haven, you risked your life for us. You basically made yourself into live bait while the rest of us ran away,” he said in a matter of fact kind of tone. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” he continued, more so in challenge.

Alysia paused for a moment, she gritted her teeth together in recollection of all the stupid decisions that she has made thus far. It was true that she threw herself into the midst of battle without a second thought, but the outcomes of those situations turned out pretty alright? I mean through all of that, she ended up with a castle for crying out loud. And she became friends with King Alistair. The mark on her hand has stopped aching for a while now. All in all, the results weren’t that bad. Or so she hoped it would be.

But she couldn't say this to Cullen, because he would roll his eyes at her again and lose any regard he had of her. And something about that made her giggle out loudly.

“What are you laughing at?”

In an attempt to control her laughter, Alysia covered her mouth with the back of her hand, but for some reason that made her want to laugh even more. The sight of Alysia laughing so freely, with her eyes screwed shut, with her body shaking made Cullen want to laugh, and it did.

“What are you laughing at?” he asked, in between laughters. “Oh tell me, Alysia!”

Cullen waited for Alysia to stop, to collect herself. He titled his head at the woman who wiped the tears off the side of her eyes. This was the first time he had ever seen her so relaxed, so unguarded. It made him want to reach out and cup her face.

When Alysia finally stopped laughing, she told him—“Nothing. Just recalled the first time we met, s’all.”

“And how is that funny?”

“Well the first time we met, you found me lying under a pile of snow. And you were all muscle and anger—a little brash, and cynical. I remember you hating me completely. But that’s what I found so endearing about you. You were the first person who called me out for what I was, a spoilt noble.”

Cullen lifted his hand in protest but Alysia interjected him.

“You have all these wonderful qualities, Cullen. You’re honest. And that’s hard to come by these days.”

Cullen let out a soft sigh and hoped that Alysia had not heard it—he smiled lightly at the regard she showed him. He never imaged that someone could see him through his veneer; it made him want to crumble completely in her arms.

He watched her tilt her head backwards, back arching as she lowered her entire body backwards. Her hair splayed over her shoulders, all over the floor beneath her, like wheat bent over after a storm. Her eyes lay shut, mind deep in thought.

“Thank you, Cullen,” she muttered.

“For?”

Alysia let out a contented sigh and rolled to the side; she tried to stifle a yawn, but she failed—physical exhaustion was bearing down on her heavily. She felt her muscles turning painfully stiff and her head throbbing, begging for her to shut her eyelids. Her head soon started to grow light, and the fire in the hearth started to grow darker slowly and Alysia knew that sleep was about to take her. And for the first time in a long time, she allowed it.

Cullen waited for a reply but he was only met with a low groan; he raised his eyebrows at the woman whose body lay still beside the fireplace. He crept up behind and placed two fingers on her shoulder, he slowly nudged her but she still she remained unmoving. Realizing that she was fast asleep, Cullen let out a contented huff—he slowly placed his arms below on her back and pulled her into his arms, lifting her off the ground.

He tenderly cradled her in his muscular arms as her feet dangled in the air; he felt her twitch slightly under his grip. He carried her all the way to her bed and set her down as gently as he could. He tucked her under the thick sheets and watched her unconsciously curl her hand into a loose fist beneath her chin. She looked so peaceful.

Cullen wanted to touch her, but he knew that if he did, he’d want her again. And again. And again. He knew that he would never grow tired of wanting her. At this moment he’d give anything to curl up beside her, and lie next to her and pull her close to him, within the warm, protective curve of his body. But he resisted—instead he settle for the image of her, asleep in her bed, with the sheets pulled up to her chin.

He blew out the candle on her bedside and before descending the staircase leading up to her room, Cullen turned around and looked back at Alysia once more, and at the spot where they sat there a few minutes ago, laughing, talking and being normal, for once.

Suddenly her felt as though this moment would never come again.

He clenched his jaw and tried to reason with himself that this was enough. This love he had for her was enough.

It had to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a mess right from the start. Anyways, I've been trying to give other characters enough "screen time". So bear with me :)
> 
> Send me some love on [ Tumblr ](http://in-vogued.tumblr.com/)


	26. Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alysia plays matchmaker and Hawke arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♫ Morning by Beck

She heard the curtains ruffle, its thick material flapping against the wind blowing in through the cracked window—Alysia shivered slightly and pulled the blanket until she was completely covered. Underneath, she curled up into a little ball and tried to find sleep again. But the sound was much to distracting for her to block out. Alysia peered out grogily from under the blanket and saw that the sky was still dark—she probably had about an hour or so until the break of day.

Giving up on sleep, Alysia rolled herself off her bed while wrapping the thick blanket around her like a cloak, she shivered while dragging her feet across the carpeted floor and tried to find something warm to wear through the darkness—stepping closer to the fireplace, her feet accidentally tipped over a glass bottle, spilling wine all over.

 _Shit_.

Groaning, she pushed her hair back and ignored the stain that it would leave—she was much too cold to care about it. She grabbed her black tunic that was near the top of the stairs and slipped it on; her leather boots was on the far left corner of her bed and her brown pants was right next to it. Alysia quickly rummaged through the pile of clothes in a crate and found a thick black longline coat—surrounding the collar was light grey fur and subtle silver linings were on the edges of the coat.

Right in the middle of buckling her coat, Alysia realized that she had sometime to kill before Hawke arrived; she decided that maybe she should watch the sunrise from the battlements—she wanted to see its light slowly shine over everything, that, and it was the best place to see Hawke arriving.

As she walked down the stairs and strode through the stone hallway, she remarked to herself at how quiet the entire stronghold was—the only sound that filled its stone walls was of the thick fabric of her coat dragging across the floor and the clunking of her boots. Rubbing her hands together for warmth, Alysia realized that it was still much to early and most of the stronghold’s occupants were fast asleep.

She felt envious.

The only person who would be her insomnia partner was Cullen, she wondered silently if Cullen was asleep—she could not recall how she ended up in bed in the first place, but she knew that she did spent a rather wonderful evening with Cullen despite his constant blushing, which she found rather endearing. She recalled contentedly how they bonded over a bruise on her face and wine, which she accidentally spilt in her wake this morning.

_What a waste of good wine._

As she made her way out of the hall, she saw a guard patrolling the staircase leading up to the battlements, the man quickly stood in alert when he saw her approaching but she immediately waved him off to be at ease—which he did.

“Good morning, Inquisitor,” he said as she passed by.

Passing him, Alysia immediately did a double take at the boyish yet commanding voice that she recognized.

She spun on her heels and looked at the guard who was nodding his helmet at her.

“Jim?” she asked warily.

“Yes, Inquisitor?” he piped up, raising his head.

“I though that was you,” she exclaimed, crossing both of her hands over her chest. “I didn’t know you did morning patrols? I thought you were in charge of helping Cull—the Commander?” she asked.

Jim rubbed his hands together at her question, “Ah yes, I usually do most of his errands in the early mornings but for some reason, the Commander is well… deep in slumber. Which is a rare occasion,” he said, looking perturbed.

Alysia smiled a little and looked at the direction of Cullen’s room—imagining him being fast asleep at this hour would be a sight she would love to take it, but that would be overstepping her boundaries. Especially since she finally got him to ease up to her a little bit.

But what if she snuck in? Maybe he wouldn’t notice. No. She shouldn’t, Alysia thought to herself.

“Inquisitor, I hope this isn’t a strange question, but how is…Rhoswen doing?”

“Rhoswen?” Alysia asked, finding it strange that Jim would ask about her.

Alysia noticed how Jim shifted at her name; did he possibly take an interest in her? No way, Rhoswen never mentioned anything of the sort. If anything, Rhoswen did say that she and Jim did exchange pleasantries. But what if there was something going on and they both needed a little push?

Alysia mulled over the thought of being their matchmaker; she was sure that it wouldn’t hurt a little to help the both of them.

“She’s doing well, although she does speak fondly about you,” she lied.

To which Jim’s eyes grew wide open and he scratched the tip of his nose to hide his blush.

“S-She did?” he stammered.

Alysia smiled sheepishly at the oddity of their relationship, but then again the heart wants what it wants.

“If you’re ever free, do come over for tea? Rhoswen will be pleased.”

“Ah, but I doubt the Commander would appreciate me disappearing for a while,” Jim hesitated.

“Well, if Cullen were to ever say anything, tell him to speak to me, the Inquisitor,” Alysia said in an authoritative kind of way.

“Yes, Inquisitor,” Jim said, raising a fist to his chest and bowing at Alysia who nodded at him.

“Anyways, I shouldn’t keep you from you duties. See you later, Jim,” she said, waving her hand at him while continuing her walk.

Alysia pulled the collar of her coat higher around her neck to block out the cold morning wind from her face; as she finally made it up to the battlements, Alysia couldn’t help but marvel at the mountains that lay in front of her. She watched how the blanket of fog that lay below the distant mountain seemed like a boundless ocean, waving beneath her fee; and somehow the peak of the mountain seemed like an island. She moved her gaze up to the rising sun that struggled through the morning cloud, the sky seemed to be painted in a rich variety of light and shadow, and Alysia observed it with an almost poignant interest—she felt as though the most beautiful everlasting solitude rested in between the layers of the colors in the sky.

As she slouched her body against the stone surface, she couldn’t help but laugh at her peculiarly social disposition that the Inquisition had given her. She craved for some form of seclusion, a place she could have a peace of mind but the thought of detaching herself from the Inquisition seemed like a mad idea—one she couldn’t ever see herself doing.

After all, everyone in the Inquisition was family now to her. Abandoning them for the sake of some placidity seemed like a selfish idea. One she knew no one would appreciate. But then again, being in the Inquisition did have it perks—one she was afraid to indulge in.

Casting her gaze lower, she saw the tents in which most of her troops were living in—even Jim lived down there. From here the tents seemed like tiny ants—she extended her hand over the edge and tried to measure the image in front of her with her fingers. Sighing slight, Alysia felt that she should at least visit her troops, and see if their living arrangements are satisfactory. Sure Cassandra and Cullen have been giving her daily reports on how they were doing, but how were they truly doing? Alysia did not want to be one of those leaders who lived up in glass houses and waved at everyone through the window, but in truth were too afraid to be touched by them in fear of infection. Those people were the worst kind of rulers, Alysia said to herself.

“Am I disturbing you?” a voice spoke from behind her.

Turning her head around to greet the baritone voiced human, Alysia smiled at him and shook her head.

“I could use the company,” she said, waving Varric over.

The dwarf smiled at her and swaggered over.

“Sleep well?” he asked, watching her attentively as her eyes stared off at the distance.

“Somewhat. Did you?” she asked in politeness.

Varric shook his head and grinned at her.

“I’ve had better nights.”

Hearing a hint of humor in his voice, Alysia slanted her head to face him.

“Cassandra?” she asked, knowing full well what his answer would be.

“Who else?” he said, smirking at the thought of the woman.

“I swear, the both of you seem like an old married couple. Always at each other’s throats, but still loving each other nonetheless,” she exclaimed while trying to hide her laughter.

Varric let out a deep grunt and rolled his eyes.

“I am taking offence in what you just said, Inquisitor,” the dwarf spoke. “But don’t let the Seeker catch you saying that about us, she might not be so forgiving as I am.”

“Oh no, on the contrary I feel like she owes me now. Especially after this,” Alysia said while pointing at where the bruise used to be.

“Right you are.”

Perching his body over the stonewall, Varric spotted a blur moving from the corner of his eyes: something, or someone was dashing through the snow, making their way through the stronghold.

“She’s here,” Varric announced to Alysia who immediately straightened her body. “Ready?”

\----------

“Inquisitor, allow me to introduce my dear friend, Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall,” Varri said, extending his right arm towards the staircase from where the mage strode down the steps towards the Inquisitor.

Alysia felt lightheaded from the sight of the woman who was infamous throughout all the Free Marches, to meet Hawke in person was something she had not expected in a million years.

Hawke held an air of confidence, each step she took oozed it, the way she sashayed over made Alysia want to bolt, but somehow Hawke’s steely gaze was friendly, although stern they were. Hawke wore an intimidating set of black and red armor, with her staff attached to the back—another mage, Alysia thought to herself. Hawke’s face was angular and pale, although her cheeks were a lovely shade of pink; her eyes were bright green, like the color of the grass she remembered her estate had, it was the most beautiful hue she had ever seen. Hawke wore heavy black eyeliner on her lids, the kind where Alysia would steer clear from, not because it looked bad but rather because she knew that it wouldn’t suit her. Her lips were painted in coral red, her short black hair glinted under the morning sun. Her body was similar to Cassandra, the kind of body you’d know was honed by combat—this woman was the polar opposite of what Alysia was.

“Varric please, I don’t ever want to hear that title again,” the alto voice spoke.

Ignoring her, Varric introduced Alysia, whose mouth was agape at this point in time.

“Hawke, meet the Inquisitor. I figured that you could offer us some advice, especially where Corypheus is concerned. You and I did fight him, after all.”

“Well you did drop half a mountain on the seedy bastard, I’m not sure that anything I say now could top that,” Hawke said, sticking her hand out to greet Alysia, who took it.

The both of them shared a firm handshake. “Evalyn Hawke.”

“Alysia Trevelyan, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Alysia said, grinning at the mage.

Alysia felt a pang of jealousy at the mage, Evalyn was probably around the same age as her, if not just a few years older, and yet despite going through a whole lot in her life, she seemed to be composed, and somehow had an adult-like air to her.

“I highly doubt that. From what I’ve heard, you took on a horde of Qunari single handedly,” Alysia said.

Evalyn shot Varric a dirty look. “You never change, do you Varric? Your love for embellishing stories will be your downfall one day, mark my word,” she said, growling slightly at him, but mostly in jest.

Varric shook his head in displeasure and huffed.

Evalyn rolled her eyes at Varric.

“Well there is some truth in that tale, I did fight the Arishok. If there is a secret horde of Qunari lying around, I might be able to help.”

Alysia scratched her chin and smiled sheepishly at the mage.

“Well, we do have a Qunari. But he’s basically built like a horde, fortunately for us he’s on our side,”Alysia said, while grinning. “I’m sure we could do something about a little sparring match between the two of you.”

Evalyn licked her lips in joy, “Now we’re talking. Introduce us. I promise not to hurt him… much, anyways,” she chuckled darkly.

Instead of feeling intimidated or wary by what she said, Alysia just laughed.

“I’m sure the Iron Bull would not object to a little bit of pain,” Alysia said, shaking her head at the thought of that burly Qunari being pummeled by a woman half of is height.

“Oh, Varric. Why didn’t you tell me how amazing your Inquisitor in your letters! I would have come sooner,” Evalyn cried, swatting the dwarf who grunted again.

“Now, now, Eva. What would your favourite Rivani pirate say if she heard you praise another woman?” Varric said while groaning.

Evalyn rolled her eyes up, as if she was contemplating the situation. She then looked at Alysia then back to Varric. A smile then appeared on her lips—a very dangerous looking one.

“Well I’m sure Isabela wouldn’t oppose to having a… threesome,” Evalyn said, rolling her tongue on the last word.

Varric made a disapproving sound at the Champion of Kirkwall’s outright invitation; his wild eyes then shot Alysia a pleading look, whose face was now slightly aflame from the woman’s blatant flirtation.

“So about Corypheus,” Varric said, in hopes of moving the conversation forward.

“What would you like to know?” Evalyn asked, as she folded her arms over her chest.

“Any information you have would be of help,” she said, nodding politely at Evalyn but then she lifted her finger parallel to her face. “But, something warm to eat would be lovely right about now. I haven’t eaten anything since I woke up. And I’m sure you would like something to eat especially from all the travelling.”

Varric placed his index finger on his chin, as if to consider the idea. “But what about Cullen and Cassandra? I doubt that they would appreciate Eva prancing about Skyhold without meeting them first,” Varric warned.

Alysia bit her lower lip at Varric’s remark; it was true. Cassandra still was not pleased about the whole thing and Cullen, well Cullen would most probably get annoyed, but the damage has been done. Evalyn was now here, and there was nothing either of them could do about it.

“I’ll deal with the both of them. Take Hawke across the battlements to my quarters, and ask Rhoswen to fetch some food. I will meet you guys there and we can talk about the cunt who refuses to die,” she said.

Evalyn let out a hearty laugh at Alysia’s crude use of words and lack of decorum, she truly did like the Inquisitor.

Alysia waved them both goodbye and headed across the battlements to see Cassandra first, then Cullen. She figured that Cullen would still be asleep, so why bother him so early.

“Fucking fuck,” she canted over and over again, under her breath as she raced to Cassandra’s room. She had to talk to the Seeker now before she figured that Evalyn was in her room—Cassandra did know that Hawke was coming, but Alysia knew that Seeker would not appreciate not being there for their meeting on Corypheus.

Standing outside her bedroom door, Alysia crossed her fingers and sent a fervent prayer to the Maker that she would be at the end of the Seeker’s ire. Clearing her throat, Alysia knocked about three times on the Seeker’s door and heard a soft “come in”. Nodding her head, Alysia pushed the door open and found Cassandra sitting at the edge of her bed wiping her steel sword.

“Inquisitor,” the woman greeted warmly, chucking the blade to the side of her leg. Cassandra gestured for her to enter instead of waiting beside the door. Alysia hesitated for a moment, but she knew that the Seeker would appreciate the honesty rather her lying about Evalyn not being here yet.

“Is there something I can do for you?” she asked.

“Um, well Cassandra, you see—,” Alysia fidgeted with the hem of her sleeves and tried to muster the courage to tell her that Evalyn was already here. In her room in fact. She did not know why she was afraid to tell the Seeker that, to be honest she didn’t even know if she had anything to be afraid of at all.

“If it’s about Hawke, I know she’s here. I saw her walking near the battlements,” she said, scowling a little.

“Oh? Wait what? Then why didn’t you come up? Why didn’t you say anything?” she exclaimed, slapping her hand on her face.

“Ah, I didn’t… I didn’t think you’d want me there. Especially after last night,” the Seeker said, grimacing slightly about the hit she gave Alysia in her fit of rage.

Alysia cocked her head at the Seeker as if confused by what she was saying, and then she recalled how she accidentally punched her in the face; she then touched the side of her face and began to laugh.

Confused by the odd reaction from Alysia, Cassandra stood up abruptly and began to speak, but then Alysia smiled widely at her, interrupting her.

“Cassandra, I regard that hit to the face last night as a… show of affection. Don’t let it bother you. Plus, there’s no proof of it ever happening,” Alysia said, tilting her head sideways to show the Seeker the invisible bruise on her cheek.

“But—,”

“No but’s Cassandra. Now I would appreciate you marching up to greet Hawke, she’s in my room with Varric,” she instructed. “It wouldn't be nice to keep her waiting.”

Cassandra nodded slowly and sheathed her sword, feeling defeated. She did want to apologize for her manner last night, but she knew that Alysia was forgiving and needn’t an apology from her. She found that quality of her to be charming, but she also found that to be a very precarious attitude from someone in her current position to have. The Inquisitor had to be bold, unforgiving, cold-blooded, but she knew that those shortcomings was definitely outmatched by Alysia’s other attributes. She was firstly humane. A trait that not many leaders had, but needed.

“I’ll meet you upstairs then? I have to get Cullen,” Alysia said, bowing her exit to Cassandra who replied with a light nod.

Alysia quickly darted towards Cullen’s office. She wondered if he would be awake by now—she could tell Jim to inform him, but the poor boy had been up before dawn. Somehow, Alysia felt something at the back of her mind urging her to speak to Cullen. She did not know why, but she felt like she had to see him. She wondered if after their strange conversation last night, about his past, and hers, if he would start avoiding her more now?

She wasn’t a stranger to his erratic attitude towards her. On some days, she could get along with him—she could laugh at him, or with. Agree on some of his opinions and contemplate on them. But on some days, they completely disagreed with one another. Cullen would come off as demanding, and she would come off as someone who never gave a single thought about anyone but herself.

How could the both of them form a proper, balanced relationship, especially when their feelings for each other were always in a state of flux?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am honestly so sorry for the slow and inconsistent chapter updates! I've been on holiday.  
> This chapter is legit a whole lot of nothing, but here's me hoping I can do a proper update (MORE CULLEN/SOLAS) for all of you as soon as I fly back home next week :D
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!


	27. Come to This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen is confused and Solas feels guilty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♫ Come to This by Natalie Taylor

With a light huff, Alysia rapped lightly on the door—with any luck, she believed that Cullen would be sitting in his office, reading or writing some sort of document, and he would announce for her to come in pleasantly and give her his winning smile. That was the best case scenario. The worst case would be him asking her to come in with his usual stern voice, the kind of voice he used on his recruits, which made him sound more like her father rather than a Commander.

_Well, whatever._

She knocked on the door again, but there was no answer. Raising her eyebrow at the unacknowledgement from Cullen, Alysia announced that she would be coming in. Still she waited for a reply, before opening the door, but there was none.

Slowly, she pushed the creaky door open—instead of finding Cullen hunched over his desk, an empty office greeted her, with his stacked papers blowing gently against the breeze coming in from an open window. Alysia walked towards the middle of the room, and did a little twirl; she wondered where Cullen was; there was no way he was still in bed she suggested to herself. It was nearly two hours past dawn, Cullen would usually be awake at this time—either working in his office or working out with the recruits.

She shuffled her feet along the stone flooring, admiring Cullen’s room. This was not the first time she had been into his office, but it was in fact the second. The first was when she brought Cullen over here after his collapse in the mountain, but this time, the room looked somewhat homely. Despite the lack of furniture or decoration, it suited Cullen. Pieces of him were found throughout his office, his table had stacks of papers; some were neat, some not so much. Towards the left was a shelf, it housed various books; much like Solas, and Dorian, Cullen read a lot—some of the books were about politics, art, magic, religion, and history. Alysia traced the leather bindings from the books and wondered which was his most favourite book out of the rest? On his desk lay a few bits and pieces besides Inquisition work—there was a gold coin resting next to a faded painting of a mabari, a half empty bottle of what seemed to be whisky. Alysia popped the cork open and took a whiff of it and crinkled her nose. It seemed to be strong. Placing it down, Alysia walked over to the window behind Cullen’s table, it was a small slit, but from here she could see deeper into the mountains, more so than from her balcony.

Interrupting her snooping was the sound of a muffled cough, her ears perked up at the sound—she wondered if she was just imagining the sound, but then, there it was again. Another cough, or more so a strangled sounding cough. She realized that it was coming from upstairs: from Cullen’s bedroom.

Alysia walked over to the ladder and peered up at the small square space, she wondered if Cullen was upstairs? Hesitating, she called out to him, but still there was no answer. She gripped the wooden staircase and wondered if she should check on him—but there it was again, the sound of a strangled cough. Without thinking twice, Alysia quickly climbed up the ladder to find Cullen thrashing about in his bed, gasping for air; his fingers gripped the thin material of sheets, ripping them slightly. Cullen’s face screwed up into a frown, with his mouth gasping for air—Alysia stood at the edge of his bed, dumbfounded at what to do. The first thing that came to her was to stop Cullen from thrashing about in his bed, she was pretty sure if he continued, Cullen might not have a bed anymore.

Alysia leapt on top of Cullen, trying to put all of her weight on his thighs—she felt as thought she was atop a rowdy horse, one that was living in the wild for far too long and had lost all sense of its manners; that is if horses could have manners.

_Now, for the arms._

Securing herself firmly on Cullen’s abdomen, Alysia tried to pin Cullen’s hands with hers, but she knew that she would be unsuccessful, the man was obviously much larger and stronger than she was and no matter how much weight she was putting on him, she found herself slipping off him. Her back started to grow tired, more so because Cullen kept whipping his hands about and kicking his legs—Alysia knew that she had to stop whatever it was that was happening to him. From her angle it looked like Cullen was having some sort of seizure, and she was afraid that he would ultimately hurt her, or worse, himself.

Feeling defeated, Alysia knew that there was only one way in stopping him. She screwed her eyes shut and concentrated—for a moment; she could feel her entire body start to burn up, as if something inside of her was coming alive. But then, the sensation was gone. _Was she not concentrating enough?_

 _No, again,_ she pleader to herself.

This time, she concentrated harder—concentrating on each sensation that she felt coursing through her body. She could feel it on the tips of her fingers; something wanted to be released, yearning to escape from her. Shutting her eyes tighter, Alysia could feel energy pooling in the pit of her stomach, it felt like waves, waves that one would lie upon, letting it take your body. She could feel this energy growing throughout her entire body; she felt her head on the verge of exploding—this was too much. Too much for someone who could barely control any form of magic.

 _No, no, there’s has to be a way,_ she told herself that, over and over again. Praying to the Maker, asking for forgiveness. She promised to never use magic, or acknowledge its present. But she was desperate. Cullen was hurting, and she had to pull him away from this pain.

Alysia groaned as she felt her fingers burn, not even in the slightest tingle, but rather a burning sensation so painful that she wanted to pull each finger out to stop the pain. With a shriek coming off her lips, and someone below, Alysia let out a stream of water—within a millisecond, the cold water soon turned into thick ice blocks, trapping Cullen’s entire arm, making it fall beside him with a dull thud. But his arms weren’t the only one entrapped by her ice, the entire room seemed to be filled with, as if Cullen’s room had just been ravaged by a snowstorm.

Feeling her body grow weary, Alysia sensed her body about to buckle—her eyes started to grow tired, she felt perspiration pooling on the small of her back, and dripping off the side of her face. She tried to keep her body from falling flat on Cullen’s chest, which was the only part of him that was saved from the ice; but the exhaustion was too much for her body—within minutes, Alysia felt her back caving in from the tiredness. As she was about to fall, she felt someone’s slender fingers wrap itself around her, pulling her body away from Cullen’s, leaving him in her icicle tomb.

With her half opened eyes, Alysia saw someone move her from Cullen’s room to the lower office. She felt the stone wall against her limp body, she thanked it inaudibly for its support; the firm grip around her body left her, and she saw an image of a man climbing up Cullen’s ladder, then she heard him say something in elven— _Solas._ With a half smile, she knew that he was fixing the mess she made of Cullen’s room, she tried to stay awake to hear what would happen next, but her body was far too weary for that. Soon, she could no longer see anything but all she could feel was the ferocious pounding in her head, and the dull ache in her body.

_Ma serannas, Solas._

\----------

Cullen awoke in his room, baffled at the state he was in. Solas was standing at the edge of his bed, extracting the last bit of ice that had housed in his room. He sat at the corner of his bed, with a loose white shirt draping over his frame—he could tell that Solas was angry, about something. But the bigger question was, what was Solas doing in his room, and what was with the ice.

As soon as the last bit of ice dispersed into the air, Solas flexed his fingers and glanced at Cullen, who was still in every bit of shock. Cullen clenched his jaw and wondered what the elf was thinking, he knew that Solas was a man of very few words, if you count huffing a form of conversation that is. But he had to ask why he was in his room, and with all this ice.

“So—,” Cullen started.

“So,” Solas interjected. “I was working on this magic, and somehow or other, this ice spell managed to find its way into your room, rather than in the confines of…. The palm of my hand,” Solas explained, trying to sound very matter of factly.

Cullen raised his eyebrows and wondered what sort of spell was his trying to do, and how this mage, an elf who claimed to have learned it by himself managed to will such great power, that it coated him and his room in it. In all of his Templar years, he had not seen a mage able to wield such.  
“So, all this,” Cullen said, pointing at his room. “Was you?”

“Precisely.”

“And you, somehow or other, managed to screw up your spell?”

Solas merely nodded at his question.

Cullen scratched the tip of his nose and found all of this to be a bit absurd. But Solas would never lie, not that he would know. But he thought of the man to be honourable enough to not lie about something like this.

“One question.”

“Yes?”

“How did you managed to form icicles in my room and on my body, from, way over there,” Cullen said, pointing at the direction of Solas’ room.

Solas raised his eyebrows at the Commander’s question, but it was a fairly good one, he said to himself.

“Well sometimes,” Solas started. “Sometimes, things happen for no obvious reasons. Sometimes some mages can’t control their magic, and when that does happen, they’re either turn into abominations or, you know “screw up”. So this is one of this instances,” he continued.

Before Cullen could ask another question, Solas raised his index finger.

“I am truly sorry for this. But, in my restoration of your room, I did end up enchanting your broken roof, so now there won’t be any cold air coming from up there,” he said, dryly. “I consider us even then.”

“Ah, yes. Thanks for the roof,” Cullen muttered. Still confused at the whole thing.

“Well, now. Goodbye,” the elf said curtly. Solas walked towards the ladder and slid off it fairly quickly, leaving the perplexed Commander in his room.

\----------

With a light thud, Solas landed elegantly on to the stone floor. He straightened his back and found a sleeping Alysia on the floor, with a smirk; the elf walked towards her and knelt down to face her. Her face looked entirely beat, with sweat rolling down her neck, and hair matted on to her flushed cheek. Solas chuckled, and with a slight huff escaping his lips, he reached out to her and delicately pushed the matted hair off her face, tucking it behind her eyes.

“You have quite the affinity for getting yourself in to trouble,” he said.

Wrapping his arms around Alysia, Solas gently lifted her off the floor and cradled her, he set his eyes upon her as he walked towards his rotunda—he could smell the faint smell of vanilla coming off her skin, the smell was enough for him to bring her body closer to him. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, from the closeness of his chest and her face—but he reasoned to himself that it was probably from the walking and carrying her, although a feeble man he was not.

Nudging the door open with his right shoulder, Solas walked into the room and placed Alysia on his chaise lounge, he wanted to carry her all the way to her room but he felt that she would not appreciate him barging into her room. So instead he settled for her lying there—he could feel everyone’s eyes on them. Dorian’s, Leliana and her spy’s, some of the other mages from Fiona’s army, and Fiona herself. But he could not care less, this moment was his and he didn't care what they would think about this.

He stroked the side of her face, enjoying the softness that the tips of his fingers felt against her skin. From this close, he could see her, for all that she was. He knew that she was a mage, he had known for the longest time, ever since Haven. But time did not permit him in asking her this—nor was Alysia open and honest about her abilities. But he knew. He found it odd that he could sense it, every time he felt a strange aura growing within the crack of this world, he would somehow see that it was Alysia who was carrying it. It wasn’t visible to the human eyes, or anyone’s eyes for that matter, but for some reason or other, he could just sense it.

He felt her magical abilities growing, calling out to him, especially when she was in Cullen’s office—but this time the energy he felt was much larger, and dangerous. He tried to get to her as soon as he sensed it in his rotunda, but alas he was too late, and instead he found her reducing Cullen’s room to an icy mess. He knew that she was untrained, and susceptible to destroying herself from the inside out if she kept on using her magic the way she did. He had to help her, help her come to terms with her abilities. But for that to begin, Alysia herself has to be honest about it, and Solas was sure that she wouldn’t be.

Solas grabbed her right, and pulled it closer to his face—this magic will eventually kill her. He knew that, he could feel it in his bones, but he would never dare tell her the truth. After all, the truth never entirely sets anyone free. It was a lie made to make someone feel less guilty about the deeds they have done.

A part of him hoped that Alysia would wake up and see in his eyes that the mark on her hand, the tragic turn of events that had befallen her was his fault. She had committed no crime, she was simply at the wrong place at the wrong time, she was the victim in this cruel game he was playing—but who was to know? He knew the enormity of his offense, but he had to keep this façade going, he could not break under the emotions he felt for this woman, a woman who made him feel more than he should.

Feeling crippled with his guilt, Solas knew that this was his burden to carry. Her death would be his fault, and there was not a damn thing he could do to reverse his mistake. Instead Solas settled for a silent wish, that somewhere in the Fade, somewhere in all of Thedas, he would find a way in keeping her alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I love you all so, here's another chapter within the same week!
> 
> Just so you know, I've tweaked the whole mage/magic thing in my fic to a more headcannon kind of way. I don't entirely know how to depict burgeoning magical abilities. But anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter :)


	28. Hold Me Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alysia and Solas share a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♫ Hold Me Down by Foreign Fields
> 
> Send the lovely [Katorius](http://thereisnomadnessanymore.tumblr.com/image/143618052519) some love for bringing my child Alysia to life.

Alysia felt her head throb with an intensity that made her want to vomit, her eyes were screwed shut, and she knew that if she opened them the vomit that was threatening to come out of her mouth, would. Trying to settle her stomach and her dizzy head, Alysia clenched her jaw tightly and started to count the clicking noise her teeth made against each other. Concentrating on her breathing, she noted that the air around her was sweet smelling, as though honey had rained all over the land, and seeped into the ground; it was an odd smell. One thing she knew for certain was that she was no longer in Skyhold—but if she was not in Skyhold, where in Maker’s name was she? Gritting her teeth, Alysia slowly opened her eyes and felt her stomach churn, she felt something rise in her throat, but she sucked on her tongue to push it back down to her already sore stomach. Slowly, her eyes met the blue sky that was dipped in a strange shade of purple, was it late into the evening, Alysia wondered to herself? The sky was large and it sparkled like the crystal ornaments her mother collected—it looked as though each star was placed there on purpose; she had never seen a sky this beautiful before. So untainted, so raw and yet sorrow resided in between the clouds.

Lightly breathing through her mouth, Alysia figured that the only way she was ever going to figure out where she was or rather back to Skyhold was if she managed to get her tired body off the ground—but thinking of the act itself made her stomach churn again. But she knew that she had to. Counting backwards from ten, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to peel herself off the ground, but her back ached in refusal—ultimately leaving her groaning in her unmoving position.

Frustrated, Alysia wondered what she was doing outside—the last thing she remembered was passing out and seeing Solas—yes, Solas. Then there was Cullen. She recalled Cullen’s face, how it contorted into a look of horror, it was as if he had just seen the most grotesque monster before his eyes; the way his lips were pulled back, baring his teeth that were clenched tightly, but yet a loud growl of agony managed to escape through his trembling lips; the way his body was soaked in sweat, veins protruding from his skin, hands clinging on to the sheets for dear life—it was as if the feeling of the material in the palm of his hands was going to save him. Cullen looked as if he had been tortured throughout the night, he looked like had been flogged a hundred times and was left to bleed all over the wooden floor. Alysia knew that she had tried to save Cullen using her magic, she knew that she had somewhat failed, but what happened after was something she could not wrap her head around—she passed out and Solas was there. But what was she doing here, on this grass, well sort of grass, with the smell of honey filling her nostrils, making her dizzy with anger, but thinking about this whole thing only made her angrier. And she couldn't afford to lose her head now.

_Stupid, weak body._

Clenching her jaw together to hide the pain, Alysia forced her back off the floor, with her feet flinging in the air; she dug her forearms deeper into the ground to lift herself. With sweat rolling down her neck, Alysia let out a scream as her upper body found itself off the grass. Gripping onto her left thigh, Alysia found her legs slowly rising despite it threatening to wobble. Balancing herself, she found her center and muttered an airy thank you to her body—and as soon as she laid her eyes upon the land that was before her, she somehow felt as though she was no longer in Thedas.

The moment she started to walk through the land, everything became luminous, and it was as if the stars had found its place on the ground—the benediction, everything here felt like it was alive. Alysia felt as though she could hear the trees whisper, like they had a voice of their own—the whole land was alive, from the small insects that were crying out in bliss to the small grass leaves that seemed to have an evanescent glow. Alysia looked around, and walked past the large trees that towered over her, and as soon as she made through them, she found herself attracted to a large maulshree tree, she had no idea why, but the tree seemed to call out to her. The maulshree tree stood atop a hill, and behind it lay a purple sky that was filled with a thousand diamonds—it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. As she walked towards the tree, the whole universe around became a benediction. Alysia traced her finger against its bark and she felt something inside her come alive—the sense of her fingers against the wood made her entire body rumble with ecstasy. Placing her ear against the tree, Alysia swore she could hear its life, the very sap running through it.

_What was this place?_

It was unlike anything she had seen in Thedas.

It was difficult to say how long she was in the state, but when she finally opened her eyes, the sky before her seemed to have grown darker, but the glistening light before her remained. It was as if the time she spent lying her head against the tree was eternity, endless eternity. There was no passage of time here; this was the virgin reality—an uncorrupted space of time that was untouchable, immeasurable.

The only thing that made time flow again was the rustling of leaves behind her, but instead of making her alert as it usually did, Alysia just turned around and faced the source of the sound—she did not know why, but her heart did not seem to beat as quickly as it should, nor did her hands automatically reach out for the blades behind her back. This place made her feel weightless, and calm—as if some energy was taking over her body.

Through the thick branches, a man emerged, no, not a man—but an elf. The recognizable crease on his forehead, the expression in his eyes—primal, yet welcoming. The way his clothes seemed to dance off his slender body, and the wolf jaw necklace that dangled around his neck, the way his long fingers seemed to push through the trees gently, as if trying to remember the sensation of it—this elf made Alysia feel as though this place was home.

“Solas,” Alysia said in a matter fact kind of way.

“Alysia,” he replied, with the same tone she did.

Solas sauntered over to her, with his hands gently placed behind his back, he stood beside her, with his back straight—it was hard to tell that he had spent most of his life living away from society, or rather people in general. Solas had an air of regalness to him; one could even feel it even from the way he walked.

“Where are we?” she asked, with a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

Solas let out a steady breath and slowly turned his gaze from the starry sky to her, her face seemed to glow even in the darkness—her long hair lightly blew against the wind, he wanted to reach out and tuck it behind her small ears, but he resisted. He noted the way her eyes seem to gleam with curiosity, it showed in the way her lips started forming into a coy smile—it was the most wonderful thing he had ever seen. For the first time in a long time, Solas felt as though he was not alone, he was no more an individual, but a part of something, someone. Like there was nothing holding him back anymore, as if a tremendous burden has been lifted—but still, there was a dull ache in the back of his mind, that this was his fault. Alysia’s fate was his fault.

He knew that this moment was impermanent. But yet there was a miracle in this impermanency.

“We are in an untainted land, a land so fragile and delicate, yet it breathes with the strength of life,” he said.

Alysia looked at Solas, with a slight frown growing in between her eyebrows.

“How did we… get here?” she asked, but as soon as the words slipped out, she felt entirely stupid. Mostly because Solas let out a chuckle.

“This is a memory,” Solas said with a hint of sorrow in his voice.

“A… memory,” Alysia repeated, as if that word seemed to be the reason why this place was alive.

She felt as though this world was dead, a place that had been consumed by violence, greed and suffering. But yet she was here, but she was no longer here on her own. It must have been the will of the ‘memory’ that had wanted to keep her here, to allow her and Solas to linger just a little bit more—until this dream ended.

“My home, the home of my people, this place—it’s unreal. And I don’t mean that in a sense that everything that you see is unreal. This tree for instance, is real—but the way you see it, the way it shines, is unreal. This place exists only in here,” Solas said, raising his right arm and pointing his index finger towards his head.

“But the way you see it now, you only see it because it feels real. You are seeing something else, a mirage of what you think Arlathan should be.”

“Arlathan… Are you saying that this is a dream?” Alysia asked, her eyes growing wide at the idea.

Instead of replying her, Solas just smiled slightly, as if the idea on its own was something beautiful. To be able to dream, and create your own world was the purest thing to him.

“No, that can’t be. We’re… in the Fade?”

“Precisely.”

“But, how? I don’t recall… knowing how to get into it.”

“You didn’t come here on your own.”

“Then how did I?”

“It was I.”

“You? But why?”

“Because Alysia, what you did with the Commander, what you tried to do was dangerous—and the Fade was the only place I could think of where we could talk about your magical abilities.”

Alysia let out a gasp at the last two words—magical abilities—she knew that Solas would have found out that she was a mage, a sort of mage. But for him to say it out loud so robustly made her want to cower in fear.

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied, shutting her eyes tightly as the words fell off her lips.

Instead of composing himself at her denial, Solas only grew angrier, he knew that she would lie to him—but somewhere deep within himself he had hoped that she wouldn’t.

He swiftly turned his entire body to face her and found her gazing towards the ground, eyes too afraid to look back at him. Oddly, Solas found himself walking closer towards her, until there was barely any space left between them. Alysia’s back rested against the tree, and he could hear her breathing, much like the other day in his rotunda—when he had held her in his arms. But this was no time for him to feel compassion for this woman, within her body there was something captivating yet dangerous, and he to let her know, that her untrained self will eventually kill her, or turn her into an abomination. A fate that he hoped would never befall her.

Solas leaned in and placed his index finger under her chin: he wanted her to look at him, to see the pain in his eyes, to see his adoration for her. To see him entirely.

“Alysia,” he whispered to her with a trembling voice.

“Let me help you,” he said. “Let me help you control it, before it consumes you.”

He felt her shiver under his touch, and he wasn’t sure if it was because his steely gaze made her falter, or if his words resonated within her; but he knew that she understood that he was right, he knew that she understood that by being an untrained mage she was putting herself, and the people around her at risk.

Alysia raised her right hand and wrapped her fingers around Solas’ wrist; she slowly looked up at him under thick lashes and tried her level best not to waver under his delicate touch. He was right, she knew he was right, but still she couldn’t involve him in a _curse_ than wasn’t his to bear. She knew of the agony he carried around him, she saw it most when he fiddled with the jaw bone necklace around his neck, with his back hunched slightly, mind deep in thought, his breathing rapid—maybe Solas thought no one was there, that no one was observing the silent elf, but Alysia was. At this exact moment, she wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and bring him close to her, so close until she could feel his skin against hers, with his lips brushing on her forehead before finally settling on the top of her head. She recalled the evening she was in his rotunda, how his arms found its way around her waist, how she was so certain he was about to pull her body closer to him, and kiss her. But there was something else; there was a fire in his eye, but distant plea in it. What did he want to say to her? What was going through his mind? What was this ache growing in the pit of her stomach?

“Solas,” Alysia whispered, gazing into his blue eyes and him into hers. He frowned slightly at her, lips parting, making it seem as though he wanted to shower her with the words he left unspoken—but instead, silence.

“Everything is going to be alright,” she continued, lips shaking at her words.

She didn’t believe it. But he had to.

Before she could wait for a reply, or his usual solemn nod—Solas placed his right hand that was previously on her chin around the small of her back, and his left on the back of her neck, drawing her closer into his slender frame. Instead of being surprised by Solas’ show of affection, Alysia rested her head on his heaving chest, and listened to the sound of his heartbeat—it was steady, despite the fact that his fingers were gripping her tunic.

“Alysia,” he said, his voice strange, almost letting out a plaintive sound.

She stood there silent, her emotions caught up like an insect in a web—the pit of her stomach that was once empty now felt full, it was impossible to make any sense of what she was feeling, or what was happening. This moment felt too difficult for words, or any form explanation. But this moment was alive, much like this unreal world they were in.

Alysia looked up at Solas, whose head was still rested above her head—all she could see from this angle was his neck and the little rope that his jawbone necklace was in, there was only two things going in her mind at this exact moment: to kiss the exposed skin of his neck, or to wake up.

“Let me help,” he called out again, startling her from the strange awareness she felt when she was in his arms.

She wanted to reply, to say yes, but all she could concentrate on was on how his fingers gripped the fabric of her tunic even harder, the hand that was placed behind her neck now moved to the base of her head, fingers buried in her hair, thumbs resting just in front of her ears, pulling her head from his chest to face him, he felt her nose brush against his chin slightly. Her eyes were closed, he didn’t care, he didn’t need to see it, or to be seen by her. Especially not with a frown on his face, or rather a look of complete bewilderment—this awareness, this emotion that he felt her was not meant to be. All there was left now was for them to wake up. And to start all over again.

Stroking the small of her back with his fingertips, Solas felt Alysia let out a deep sigh, a sound that was enough to make him slam his mouth against hers. But he resisted, instead he prompted Alysia to open her eyes: and when she did, she was no longer in front of him, nor was she standing under the big maulshree tree.

They were both back where they started, him in his rotunda, fingers wrapped around his jawbone necklace, and her lying on her sister’s lap, eyes wide with confusion, yet she felt calmness. But she knew that the dream she was in was theirs—hers and Solas’ alone.

_You, and I, we created this dream around us. And when we awake, we will continue to dream about this place._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been almost a month since my last update, I am so sorry for the delay! Updates should resume its normal schedule :)
> 
> P/S: An artwork of Alysia is posted above.


	29. Actors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke helps the Inquisition, and Aurelia grows suspicious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♫ Actors by Still Parade

Stroking her sister’s soft hair, Aurelia knew that something was wrong, amiss. She found her sister’s sleeping body in Solas’ rotunda, he was hunched over her, hands stroking the mark on her hand gently, as if consoling her—she found that sight to annoy her, and she didn’t know why. There was something in the way he held her, the way his body seem to gravitate towards her sister, that made Aurelia feel as though he was going to swallow her whole, like a wolf eating its prey. She knew that there wasn’t anything sinister behind the way he acted towards her, but she couldn’t help but feel as though the quiet elf was hiding something about Alysia. Whatever the secret was, Aurelia wanted to know it.

She felt her sister shift under her touch, her breathing returning to normal now, the chill in the air made her sister shiver a little but her eyes still remained shut. Aurelia reached down to stroke her sister’s cheek, watching as her sister’s mouth twitch the way it always did when she was waking up. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open and Aurelia noticed a hint of an epiphany growing inside her sister’s blue eyes—Aurelia would liked to have believed that whatever clarity her sister had reached, she hoped that it was temporary. For her sister had her string of epiphanies that have always consumed her like a fire. She recalled how her mother always said that when someone experience significant clarity, it is as if the universe has revealed its true self to you. And this revelation can be humbling, but it can also reduce you to a shivering mess: this pain may be a beautiful thing to witness, to endure, but sometimes this pain can be life changing. Aurelia knew for certain that her sister didn’t need any more life changing experiences: she had endured enough.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Cassandra paced around the room, her boots clinking heavily against the stone floor of the War Room, she heard that the Inquisitor had fainted but for reasons unknown to her. Aurelia informed them that their Inquisitor was doing better and that the meeting would start right after noon. Varric and Hawke stood next to each other, chatting away about their past endeavors and what the both of them have been up to. The only three people missing in this room besides the sisters were Cullen, Josephine and Leliana. The Spymaster and Ambassador were away on important Inquisition business, but they informed that they would return by nightfall. Cullen on the other hand was late, something that was an irregular occurrence. If anything he was the most hardworking person in the Inquisition.

The wooden door opened with a loud bang, startling everyone in the room. But jovial as ever, Alysia sauntered into the room as if nothing had happened to her, and Aurelia followed closely behind her. Alysia scanned the room and noticed everyone’s peculiar expression; with a huff, she rolled her eyes.

“What is it this time? Do I have a piece of bed hair sticking out?” she asked, grinning as she patted her head down.

Smirking, Hawked walked over to her. “On the contrary, you look better than you did this morning. I must meet with whoever that dresses you,” she joked.

Raising her eyebrows at the Champion, Alysia doubled over and giggled. “Ah, we just met, and we’ve already started with the insults. Varric, I am entirely cross with you for not introducing us sooner,” she said, eyeing the dwarf who smirked at her.

Leaning against the table, Hawke looked up at Alysia who seemed to be scanning around the room, as if searching for someone. She quickly shot Varric a curious look who merely hunched his shoulder.

“So, then, about Corypheus. What can I tell you?”

Hesitantly, Alysia returned her gaze back to Hawke who was staring up at her.

“Yes, Varric said that you have fought Corypheus before,” she said, trying her best not to sound distracted.

Hawke shook her head slightly, “Fought and killed,” she said, lowering her gaze to the table. “The Grey Wardens were holding him, and he somehow used his connection to the Darkspawn to influence them,” she continued, with her voice low.

“Influence?” Cassandra interrupted.

Varric shuffled his feet, and stared at Hawke whose eyes were still gazing at the table. “Corypheus got into their heads. Messed with their minds. Turned them against each other.”

A low gasp escaped Alysia’s lips as she placed her gloved hand over her mouth. “No,” she muttered, disbelieving what Varric and Hawke was telling her.

“If he is capable of turning the Wardens against each other, I wonder what other power he wields,” Aurelia said, glancing at her sister, whose eyes seemed to be fixed on to the map, like Hawke.

“If he could tear a hole in the sky, and on the palm of my hand, I’m sure he could do much worse,” Alysia said, sounding a matter of fact like.

“If the Wardens have disappeared, they could have fallen under his control again,” Hawke spoke, with a hint of fear in her voice.

Alysia pinched her bottom lip with her index finger and thumb, contemplating the possibility of Wardens being manipulated by that raving lunatic. “If that’s what happened to the Wardens, do you think we can free them?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“There is a possibility,” Hawke said, crossing her arms around her chest. “But we need to know more first. I’ve got a friend in the Wardens; he was investigating something unrelated for me. His name is Stroud.”

“And where is he?” Cassandra asked.

“The last we spoke, he was worried about corruption in the Warden ranks. Since then, nothing.”

“Well, that’s helpful,” Aurelia mumbled, running her hand through her hair in exasperation.

“Lia, please. Let her speak,” Alysia begged, shooting an annoyed look at her sister.

“I know that he didn’t disappear with the Wardens. In his last letter, he said he would be hiding in an old smuggler’s cave near Crestwood.”

“If you don’t mind me asking—if you didn’t know about Corypheus, what were you doing with the Wardens?” Aurelia asked, growing wary at the Champion’s story.

Hawke smirked at Aurelia, knowing very well that she was trying to find some gaps in her story as if she was a threat to the Inquisition, or more so, Alysia. She heard from Varric that the older sister was hiding something from everyone, in fact, even from the Inquisitor. It wasn’t her place to know about this secret, but there was something strange going on between these sisters, and her sense of protection over Alysia made it seem outright suspicious.

“The Templars in Kirkwall were using a strange form of lyrium, it was red. I hoped that the Wardens could tell me more about it. If you recalled what happened to Lord Commander Meredith, she was consumed by this lyrium,” Hawke said.

A flash of shock ran across Alysia’s face, she recalled the ghastly future she was sent into with Dorian. “I’ve encountered red lyrium. Corypheus was using it to corrupt the Templars and turn them into his slaves. Hopefully your friend Stroud will know more about this,” Alysia said. “Thank you for your help, really.”

Hawke raised her hand in the air, “I’m doing this as much for myself as for you. Corypheus is my responsibility. I thought I’d killed him before. This time, I’ll make sure of it,” she replied; resolve growing in her voice.

“You won’t be alone in this, trust me,” Alysia said darkly, while smirking. Cassandra simply nodded in agreement, along with the rest of the room. Except Aurelia, who seemed to be staring at Hawke, then back to her sister in displeasure.

“Shall we conclude today’s meeting? I feel like a round of Wicked Grace is in order,” Varric chimed in, to which the room let out a sigh. Hawke grinned at Varric and flung her arms around the dwarf, leading him to the grand hall. She beckoned for Cassandra to join them for a round of cards, to which she rolled her eyes but did not decline their invitation— _maybe there was more to Cassandra than her love for Inquisition matters_ , Alysia thought.

As Alysia turned to follow the dispersed crowd into the hall, Aurelia grabbed her sister by the wrist, shooting her an irate look. Peeved by her sister’s decorum during today’s meeting, especially on how she scrutinized Hawke, Alysia pulled her arm out of her sister’s grip with force.

“What is it, Lia?” Alysia asked, crossing her arms over her chest in annoyance. “You’ve been acting strange today.”

Mouth agape at her sister’s accusation, Aurelia placed both of her arms on her waist, “Me? Acting strange? I know that there is something going on, I can feel it. Ever since your tumble in Haven, something about you has changed,” she said tensely.

“Changed? Nothing about me has changed, Lia,” Alysia said, try to brush her sister’s audacious accusation aside.

Narrowing her eyes at her sister, Aurelia felt her temper growing. She was not used to being the outsider in her sister’s life; in fact, she has always been the first person to know about the matters in Alysia’s life. “Really? When did you get so close to Evalyn Hawke? You do know that she is a mage, who basically helped her friend—what’s his name?”

“Anders?” Alysia interrupted.

“Yes, Anders. She helped him ruin the circle in Kirkwall. She is the reason for the mage rebellion.”

“And your point is?”

“When did you start getting so close to mages, Aly? You supported them in front of King Alistair, took them in even. And don’t even get me started on Solas,” Aurelia badgered.

“ _Solas_? What about Solas?” Alysia hissed, by this point she knew where her sister was heading, her sister was always perceptive, especially to matters that might smear the family name. But fuck the Trevelyans, they have done nothing but make her life more miserable than it should be. They took away the two most important things to her; Alysia wanted nothing to do with the Bann, and his followers.

“You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with Solas recently. He is an apostate for crying out loud!” she yelled, slamming her hands on the wooden table. Her force was enough to tip the tiny flags on the war table. “You have no business spending more time than you should with an apostate mage. Unless…” Aurelia stopped, placing her index finger over her mouth and tapping it furiously like a mad woman.

“Unless, he’s been teaching you how to control your magic?” she blurted out, eyes wide in accusation towards her sister.

A strangled sound escaped her throat when her sister shot her a dark look.

“You’re being paranoid, Aurelia! You know that whatever magical abilities I had is sealed away, you and father made damn sure of this. Don’t you dare accuse me, Hawke, or _Solas_ for the madness in your mind,” she yelled.

For a moment as if a demon has possessed her sister, Aurelia marched towards her sister, and shoved her against the war table, pining her chest against it. Alysia could feel her heartbeat pounding her chest, her sister had not been one prone to violence, and this was the first her sister had ever gotten physical with her out of anger. Slowly, Aurelia lowered her face towards her sister and whispered something into her ear that made Alysia gasp.

In her frightened state, Alysia pushed her sister off her and ran out of the war room, feeling her entire body tremble, with fear and grief; two emotions that have always eaten away at her. Her heart sunk with far more despair that she thought was possible, her eyes and the sides of her face were wet with tears. With her trembling legs, Alysia found herself in a familiar place; a place that she knew would accept her. With her hands covering her tear-smeared face, she found his rotunda to be empty; his desk was still as messy as ever; but the candles in his room were still lit, so he mustn’t have gone far. But the one thing that drew her in was the mural of Haven, or so she thought it was. It looked like a painting of Corypheus, with an orb in his hand. And he seemed to loom over the burning village, towering over the snowy mountains that led Alysia to safety.

Was there some sort of message Solas wanted to convey to Alysia through his paintings? She thought perhaps not, she could not claim to know what was on his mind. But within this painting, Alysia recalled her narrow escape with death, how she was saved by her magic. If it weren’t for her mage abilities, she would be dead by now. And so would the rest of the people fleeing from Haven, nay the entirety of Thedas. She was glad that her magic awoke just at the right time. Maybe it was fear that called out to it? Awakening it from its slumber. Maybe it was desperation? But maybe it was hope?

Her mother had told her that hope was such a powerful force, and when one believes in hope, the darkness that we are so afraid of doesn’t seem as sinister as it should be. Instead the darkness becomes restful, a bearer of wishes towards better things.

Within this rotunda, a burden grew on Alysia’s shoulders; she felt colder than she did yesterday. But the cold wasn’t merely just a sensation that made her want to wrap a thick blanket over herself desperately. It was the kind of cold that left a bitter after taste on your tongue, as though a parasite was growing off the misery in your chest. A parasite that means to kill you, but not with its teeth or claws, not with its anger or wrath, but with the kind surrender of lies that leave you crippled with uncertainty. She had lied to her sister about her magic, her acceptance of it, her inexperience of controlling it. She couldn’t trust her sister with the truth, she did seek to torment the only family she had left—but the guilt was painful, the truth was painful. But Alysia knew that being honest would not mean that she was doing the right thing, she was merely going to pass on the poison that coursed through her veins and mind to someone else. And she could not think of anything worse than that.

She wanted to see him so badly, to place the palm of her hands over his pale cheeks, and stroke the lines on the corner of his eyes; she wanted to watch the light reflect in his eyes, leading her back to their secret world. To rest her weary head on the corner of his shoulder and hear his heart beat beneath her ear—ba bump, ba bump—a sound that was a collection of words left unspoken by the both of them.

 She did not know what to call the spaces in between her awareness of the melody that streamed in between them—but she knew that she thought of him in those intervals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've been terrible with chapter updates! Life has been kicking my ass, but I'll try to update soon. xx


	30. It's Not True

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newfound love and Alysia finds out about Cullen's embarrassing story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Not True by William Fitzsimmons

The floor shook as feet stamped across the wooden floor, ale spilling onto the tables from mouths that were too drunk to keep open. The band played with such enthusiasm that the entire tavern was erupting with people chatting away, scuffles being broken in the upper floors, which was stopped accidentally by Iron Bull, whose body swayed to the music. His band of mercenaries sat on the lower floor, telling fictitious tales to a group of refugees, whose worries were cured temporarily by the mead in their mouth. Blackwall and Dorian argued over Sera who tried desperately to tell them about a beautiful dwarf called Dagna; Cole sat with them, with his head low and his wide brimmed enough to conceal his existence entirely. Leliana and Aurelia seemed to be tucked away into a discreet corner of the tavern, whispering into each others ears; Leliana’s face lit up into a wide smile when Aurelia leaned over, and that was the last time anyone saw them in the tavern that night. Cullen, Hawke, Varric, Josephine and Cassandra sat on a table together, playing what seemed to be the most intense game of Wicked Grace anyone had ever seen. Josephine hesitated on upping her bet but was encouraged by Varric to place the highest bet that she could think of; Cassandra rolled her eyes and told the Ambassador to do otherwise. But not wanting to be undermined, Josephine listened to Varric despite knowing that it might be a bad idea. The intensity of the night was fed even more by the alto in Maryden’s voice—the minstrel of Haven, and the strumming of her mandolin. The people on the lower floor danced to the music in the middle of the floor, continuing their spinning circles, over and over again, to the same song. The pulsing rhythm in Maryden’s voice enflamed their dance even more, on and on they dance, madly driven by the music like a whirlwind that no force could hold.

Alysia could hear the music from the main hall, feet tapping gently against the surface of the stone floor, dancing and humming to herself as she made her way back down to the tavern. Her body radiated from all of the alcohol she had drank beforehand, but duty had forced her to slip out from the Champion’s welcome party and into her room. But now that, that was done, she made haste in rejoining her group of alcohol-induced friends. However, a familiar sight stopped her merry twirling; she tiptoed, hiding behind the doorway of his study, cautious in not disturbing him. His figure was hunched over his tomes, index finger tracing his jawbone necklace absently, eyebrows knitted in perplexity—what was he thinking about this time, she wondered.

“Alysia,” he spoke briefly, jolting Alysia from her curious thoughts.

“How did you know it was me?” she asked, sauntering over to him.

“Well,” he said, stopping briefly to eye the Inquisitor who seemed to be a little drunk. “Your footsteps are apologetic.”

“What does that mean?”

He looked up from his tome and shut it gracefully. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he said. “Everybody else in this place does what they want to do, and never think twice about it. But you, you’re never sure.”

Baffled by his perceptive study of her, Alysia chewed on her bottom lip in an attempt to ignore what he just said about her.

“You’re a good person,” Alysia said. “And good people shouldn’t be spending this wonderful night indoors, stuck in between dusty tomes. We leave those things for nights that aren’t as wonderful as tonight. Come. Come dance with us, with me,” she said extending her hand to the elf whose face seemed to grow easy at her words.

* * *

 

Evalyn felt as though she was back in Kirkwall; the tavern grew more rowdy as the mead made its rounds around the room. She couldn’t help but lean back on her chair and watch the group of people around her; Varric was the same as ever, stupidly smart is what she always thought of him, always up to no good, but always filled with so much goodness. Cassandra seemed completely opposite to what Varric had described her to be, her black hair was pushed back, slurring at her words—not in the least bit daunting. The Ambassador, a woman she had never met before reminded her of her lover, the both of them had their way with words, and most importantly, Wicked Grace, but unlike Isabela, Josephine won her money fair and square. But Cullen, he looked different. For one, his hair no longer looked the same; his short untamed curls were not combed back, and it was a little straighter. The beard that he used to adorn was no longer; his face was clean-shaven saved for a few stubbles. And on his lips was the most attractive scar she had ever seen, if anything, it made his smirk even more deadlier than it should be. Although his appearance had changed slightly, he looked happier, despite exhaustion painted all over his face.

“That’s it, Montilyet,” he roared, slapping his cards on the table, surprising the people on the table. “Anymore cards with you, and I’m sure to lose all that I have.”

“Especially your dignity, Curly,” Varric chimed.

“I warned you not to bet against an Orlesian Cullen. You can never win,” Cassandra slurred, smiling at him for no apparent reason. “Ah, look, it’s the Inquisitor!” she yelled, turning her body to face Alysia who pulled a hesitant Solas into the Tavern. Evalyn waved at Alysia whose hand seemed to be clamped onto an elf she had never seen before; from the corner of her eye she saw Cullen growl at the both of them. Was he not fond of the Inquisitor? Or maybe the elf?

“What did I miss?” she yelled, as she ducked from a group of drunken dancers who tried to pull her and Solas into their merriment, hand still gripping Solas’ she pulled him closer to her body, and shot the group of dancers a wide smile.

Cautiously Evalyn looked at Cullen who seemed to grit his teeth at the sight; he really did not like the either of them. Or maybe, he did not like them together? Possibly not, Evalyn thought to herself.

“So, what did I miss?” she asked again, this time with exhaustion in her voice. “This is Solas, by the way. The Inquisition’s most… intelligent mage,” she said, carefully picking her words to describe the shy elf.

“Pleasure,” Evalyn greeted, extending her hand towards Solas, who hesitantly removed his from Alysia’s. “Come sit with us, d’you play?” she asked, looking up at the elf who nodded briefly at her question.

Solas squeezed himself next to Varric, and Alysia sat across Cullen, who smiled widely at her. Evalyn choked on her laughter, watching Cullen’s change in attitude when the Inquisitor was no longer with the mild elf. The man had in fact changed; he was no longer the uptight Templar she had grown to know, but maybe it would be more accurate to say that someone had changed him. With a sheepish grin, Evalyn decided that she had to help her friend win the woman he so desired.

Before Varric could shuffle more cards, and probably cost Cullen his clothes, she suggested another round of ale to lighten the heavy mood they were in from playing Wicked Grace. Begrudgingly Varric, placed his cards into his pocket, and made his way to the tavern master, he shook his head at his friend who seemed to have another idea in mind. Minutes later, Varric returned with drink, jolting everyone from their chatter by the sound of steins being slammed against the wooden table. Turning as a group, they shuffled the drinks down and slammed their steins against each other and gulped the bitter tasting alcohol.

Animated conversations continued amongst the table, Solas was a little more flushed now and definitely farther into his stein that he had intended. Blackwall and Cole were in a heated debate about morality and identity, a conversation no one wished to partake in, except Cassandra and Solas who had joined their conversation and were oddly bonding over it.

 _What a strange sight_ , Alysia thought.

* * *

 

Josephine had resigned herself to drinking and joined Sera and Dagna on the dance floor. Iron Bull had taken over Sera’s previous spot, his body arched closer towards Dorian who didn’t seem to mind the advances the Qunari made on him, in fact, he seemed to enjoy it. Alysia and Cullen’s chair were inched closer than they were before; she sat back on her chair, relaxing her posture as she continued sipping her drink. Cullen sat forward on the edge of his chair, if only Alysia leaned forward, her face would be close enough to Cullen’s for her to brush her lips against his. Evalyn literally bit her tongue to keep her thoughts about it to herself; Varric had made it clear during their jollity that she was not allowed to tease the both of them, he made sure that the Champion would keep her word by pinching her left thigh and shooting her a deadly look. Overall, the night was growing ebullient.

 “Ah, how I’ve missed this taste. You do know your drinks, Inquisitor,” Hawke said cheerily, observing the bottom of her cup.

Interrupting her conversation with Cullen, she turned to face the Champion who was grinning at her. “Your praise should be given to the proprietor. He gives me a list, and I get him what he needs. Not once has the tavern ever been empty since the Inquisition was built. Nearly every night I can hear Maryden’s voice from my room, what a wonderful voice,” she said.

“Well at least the drinks are better than _The Hanged Man_ ,” Varric said, shuddering at the thought.

“The Hanged Man?” Alysia asked, perching over the table.

“It’s where we used to drink, dingy tavern that one. Filled with prostitutes and gypsies,” Evalyn explained.

As if the alcohol had taken over her speech, Alysia let out a gasp when a thought came into her mind.

“Cullen. The Cullen Stanton Rutherford went to a tavern, that was sort of a brothel?” she gasped, laughing uncontrollably at the thought. Cullen scowled at the thought and blushed heavily.

“Yeah, your Commander met us there after his shifts on the weekends. Isabela robbed him blind at cards, much like your Ambassador tonight. But even after all that, he still never learnt his lesson,” Evalyn chimed, trying her hardest not to laugh at the distant memory.

“No, I resent that. Your woman cheated me,” Cullen protested. “One of these days I will win at Wicked Grace against her.”

“Sure, sure Curly. I’ll believe it when I see it,” Varric slurred.

“Hold on,” Alysia said, lifting her hands up parallel to her face. “You’ve _never_ won a game of Wicked Grace, ever? How many times have you tried, Cullen? But most importantly, against a pirate?” Alysia asked, eyes growing wider at the thought.

Cullen shook his head and shrugged at her. “I wasn’t always like this you know. Being a Commander. Being part of something bigger. Life was simpler in Kirkwall.”

For a moment, Alysia saw a hint of melancholy in Cullen’s eyes. She felt a hint of jealousy towards Varric and Evalyn. She wondered what Cullen was like before this, before the terrible events at Kirkwall.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Alysia let out a huff of annoyance. “Where was I when all of this was happening?” she mumbled to herself.

“Oh, you haven’t heard the best story yet,” Varric said under his breath. “Izzy was the reason Cullen had to do a walk of shame back to his barrack.”

Evalyn shot Cullen a look, as if waiting to see his reaction; instead of getting angry at the story he merely groaned and tilted his head back as he remembered that night.

“No, no. You will not tell her that story. No one in the Inquisition knows about it, and no one needs to ever know about it.”

Cassandra laughed, but not at them but rather at her drunkenness. With a bang she slammed face first into the wooden table, which immediately turned everyone’s attention towards her.

“She’s fine,” Blackwall shouted to the room, and everyone laughed and continued about their night.

“What, no. I have to hear this story now,” Alysia pleaded, patting the top of Cullen’s thigh playfully as she looked at Varric to elaborate the story.

Cullen hid his face with his gloved hands, refusing to relive that moment.

“So, it was a night much like any other night, like this one. So we were all playing cards, most of us were pretty drunk at this point and had the good sense to bow out or fold. Except Isabela and Cullen. We were all watching this game continue, unable to resist seeing if Cullen would finally with his match, or that maybe he had learned his lesson on playing against a pirate.”

Sitting on the edge of her chair, Alysia mouth was agape, interested to know how the story ended.

“There we were, in the middle of this game. Both Cullen and Izzy had their eyes latched onto each other, as if it was a duel against life or death. But here’s the thing, our boy Cullen had ran out of money. He boldly wanted to keep playing the game. So Isabela offered him a deal.”

Even in her stupor, Evalyn paid attention to the fact that Alysia had not taken her hand of Cullen’s thigh and neither did he notice that it was there, as he was busy trying to ignore the words slipping from Varric’s mouth.

“A deal?”

“Yes, a deal. But you never, ever, make a deal with a pirate, Snowflake. Never.”

“Isabela said—,” Evalyn interrupted.

“Will you let me finish the story?” Varric growled at Evalyn, who rolled her eyes at him.  
“She said that he could keep betting, but through means other than money. If she won, he owed her a kiss,” he said, with a hint of laughter in his eyes.

“I honestly swore that Cullen would back out, there was no way Cullen would agree to such a deal,” Evalyn giggled, barely able to contain her mirth. “Clearly the alcohol was doing all of the decision making that night,” she continued, enjoying the look on Alysia’s face.

“But, instead of coming to his senses. He took the bait, he said yes to Isabela’s deal. Slowly, the both of them laid down their cards, and without a doubt Izzy had the perfect hand.”

“Please, please stop now,” Cullen begged. His face was crimson, more from embarrassment than the alcohol, but beneath all of that he seemed to be having fun, enjoying the giggles and gasp escaping Alysia’s lips.

“He knew he had lost. He went up to Izzy, looking angrier than a dragon, but being the gentleman that he was, he stayed true to his word,” Varric said, shaking his head at the memory. “But Isabela sat on her chair and shook her head at him. Cullen grew angrier, or rather confused, started to grow suspicious of the pirate’s deal.”

Cullen slammed his face against the palm of his hands, “I never should have said yes,” he groaned.

“So Izzy looks at the bar, and points over to Hayley, a barmaid that Cullen had grown very fond of, and says ‘A kiss, but it’s not me you should be kissing, but her. I want you to kiss her.” Varric shouted, laughing at the image. “His face passed through all degrees of emotions, much like right now.”

Alysia slapped her hands over her mouth to repress her giggles, she did not know which was funnier—the story, or Cullen blushing furiously at it.

“Everyone knew that Cullen adored Hayley. Maker, we were sure Hayley knew it as well!” Evalyn exclaimed to Hayley. “We were half expecting Hayley to ignore Cullen—I mean, he was after all ten years younger than her. But much to our surprise, she went along with it.”

“I was certain Cullen was about to melt into the floorboards from embarrassment, but he didn’t! Instead, he took her hand and pulled her closer to him, and did the most Cullen thing ever—he kissed her... on the top of her hand,” Varric finished.

“You didn’t,” Alysia asked Cullen, staring wide-eyed at him. “You cheated?” she gasped, leaning in closer to him.

“I most certainly did not cheat. She said a kiss, but she never explicitly said where,” he said, clearing his throat at her accusation.

“Maker forbid,” Alysia giggled, pushing her hair back away from her face to get a better look at Cullen who seemed to be staring back at her. He regarded her with affection, and she found herself returning the same regard he had for her. Evalyn glanced at the pair who brazenly stared at each other; she couldn’t help but feel a little jealous at them. She missed Isabela tremendously, but more so she missed her past. She spent her whole life being stuck in this labyrinth of nostalgia, thinking about how things despite their faults were easier back then, back in Kirkwall. Now, everything seemed to pass her by, more quickly than they ever did. And Evalyn did not know how to procure them back—if only she could gather her fondest memories in the palm of her hand and keep them forever.

 But she knew time was not on her hand, time was fleeting and soon the world was going to be swallowed up by Corypheus.

* * *

 

The night was slowly winding down; several patrons had already begun to leave the pub to spent the last few moments before dawn with their beloved, newly found lovers, or alone. Most of the people in the inner circle had already bid goodnight except for Iron Bull and his band of mercenaries who lay intoxicated on the floor. Amongst the dancing and chatting, Alysia had forgotten how sore her body felt—Varric and Evalyn had both retired earlier, and left her and Cullen to continue chatting. The night had gone far better than she expected it to.

 She now found herself standing on her balcony with Cullen, who insisted that the walk might do him some good, especially after all that drinking. Alysia smiled to herself knowing that the Commander was trying his best not to collapse from the exhaustion. The night sky was clear, and she couldn’t count the stars that lay above her. Without even noticing, the night had gently unfurled its splendor. And all she had to do was to grasp it. Tilting her head to speak to Cullen, she saw him looking up at the night sky— at its purple twinkling brilliance. His eyes searched for an in between among the stars and dense darkness that spread across them. A cool breeze stirred Alysia’s hair at that moment, as the night wind began to come down from the snow-covered hills, but it felt like a breath from another world.

“Cullen—,” “Alysia—,”

The both of them stopped at that moment, hands clasped over their hands and the synchronicity of their thoughts. Smiling lightly, Cullen ushered for Alysia to continue by nodding his head at her. Removing her hand from her mouth, Alysia hesitated for a moment, picking apart the words that lay jumbled in her head. She looked up at the man who stood before her, eyes wide with expectation, smiling that particular smile. You know that smile that seemed to show you the secrets that lay beneath the earth but still hesitant? That’s the smile that Cullen was smiling.

Then she walked forward and without saying anything, she put her arm around Cullen, and for a second, she could feel his body grow rigid then slowly at ease. He gently wrapped his arms around her tiny frame, and just like that, with their arms around each other, they returned to a much simpler time in their heads. Amid the stars, amid the cold breeze of the night, amid the hills that surrounded the stronghold, amid the silence growing in between them—amid all of this, the night had unfolded in such a way that the gaps that Cullen and Alysia had felt in their body had filled up.

 And now all that was left was to grasp this memory firmly in their hands and treasure it when the lack of sensation settled against the filament of their mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know that it has been AGES since the last chapter update. But life has been completely busy and I honestly couldn't find the will to continue writing half-assed chapter. 
> 
> So enjoy this "extra" chapter before we jump into the Fallow Mire chapter!


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